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OUR  BOOK 


OR 


Literary  Rambles  of  a  Journalist 


WASHINGTON    FROTHINGHAM 


CHARLEMAGNE    TOWER 


SECOND  EDITION. 


Tiioir.ii  NOMK  siiniTLi)  keau  uk,  have  i  lost  hy  time  in  EN'TKKTAININO 
uvsKLK  wiTU  PLKASiNO  ANO  t'SKFUL  TiioucHT  ? — Montaignt. 


NEW    YORK: 

G.     ]p\    Dilli7i^lia))i,    PiihlisJicr, 

Successor  to  G.  \V.  Carleton  &  Co. 

LONDON:     S.  LOW,  SON  ft  CO. 
MDCCCXCII. 


COrYIUtillT, 

MAKY  FKOTH INGHAM. 


PREFACE. 


Keader,  if  you  ilud  this  volume  (»f  any  value,  your 
thanks  are  due  to  Charlemagne  Tower,  whose  liber- 
ality and  public  spirit  not  only  originated  its  publica- 
tion, but  furnished  the  means  by  which  it  was  accom- 
plished. 

True,  it  had  previously  been  suggested  that  some  of 
my  newspaper  contributions  might  be  worthy  of  book 
shape,  but  I  knew  that  this  could  only  be  done  at  a  pe- 
cuniary loss  which  I  was  not  prepared  to  meet.  Then, 
too,  I  naturally  shrank  from  the  task  of  ])re])aring  so 
laborious  a  work,  being  already  under  a  very  lieavy 
pressure  of  daily  toil. 

The  reader  can,  therefore,  imagine  my  surprise  at 
receiving  from  an  entire  stranger,  the  proposal  men- 
tioned below.  It  led  me,  burdened  as  I  was,  to  make 
a  beginning,  being  impelled  in  no  small  degree  by 
what  might  be  called  the  "  moral  support ''  —  that  is 
the  interest  felt  by  a  man  of  Mr.  Tower's  position  and 
attainments  in  my  productions. 

Under  this  influence  and  with  the  aid  of  an  effi- 
cient secretary,  I  compiled  a*  selection  extending  over 
the  work  of  a  quarter  century,  and  have  classified  the 
articles  to  assist  in  reference. 

Nearly  three  years  have  elapsed  since  Mr.  Tower's 
proposal  was  received,  and  duiing  this  interval  lie  has 
advanced  a  large  sum   of  money  —  much  more  indeed 


iv  Preface. 

than  I  could  have  expected,  and  this  lias  ]>laced  tlic 
publication  bejond  all  risk  of  loss.  While  thus  fulfill- 
ing his  pledge,  he  has  harmonized  with  me  in  the  plan 
that  should  there  be  any  contingent  profit  in  the  work, 
it  should  enure  to  benefit  a  scheme  which  I  have  long 
cherished,  but  have  been  unable  to  accomplish. 

Having  thus  introduced  Mr.  Towi.r's  ])n»posal,  I 
have  thought  proper  to  add  a  few  extracts  from  some 
of  his  letters: 

Philadelphia,  November  16,  1886. 
Rev.  Washinoton  FROTniNoiiAM: 

I  have  frequently  read  with  groat  interest  the  weekly  letters, 
of  which  I  am  informed  you  afe  the  author,  and  I  have  been  so 
impressed  by  them,  containing  as  they  do  individual  and  local 
histories,  that  it  occurred  to  me  they  should  he  n'])rintcd  and 
put  in  book  form.  I  presume  you  have  copies  from  which 
this  can  be  done.  I  write  you  now,  to  ask  if  this  would  be 
agreeable  to  yourself.  I  do  not  solicit  any  share  of  profit,  if 
there  should  be  any,  but  I  would  cheerfully,  if  permitted,  share 
in  the  cost  or  in  the  losses  that  might  be  incurred.  You  will 
gratify  mc  by  acknowledging  this  letter  and  particularly  by 
complying  with  ray  request  for  publication. 

Respectfully  and  truly  yours, 

CHARLEMAGNE  TOWER. 

Philadelphia,  DecemJpcr  27,  1880. 
Dear  Sin  —  I  was  gratified  by  the  receipt  of  your  letter  and 
particularly  by  your  inclination  to  allow  a  republication  in  book 
form,  of  at  least  a  portion  of  your  letters. 

Let  mc  suggest  to  you  to  select  from  your  stock  sufficient  to 
make  a  satisfactory  productimi,  and  permit  me  to  caution  you 
against  being  too  limited  in  your  selection.  Your  writings 
have  co.st  much  labor,  and  are  so  valuable  that  not  many  of  them 
can  be  spared.  T3etter  be  profuse  than  omit  anything  that  may 
be  useful  in  local  or  personal  history. 

Respectfully  and  truly  yours, 

CHARLEMAGNE  TOWER. 


Preface.  v 

PniLADELPHiA,  March  19,  1887. 
Dear  Sir  —  T  am  pleased  to  learn  from  your  last,  that  the  future 
book  is  started,  and  tliat  you  hope  to  yet  see  it  in  real  existence,  and 
I  am  not  surprised  at  your  remark  "  Alas!  how  long  a  task  it  will 
be."  I  have  myself  believed  that  the  work  would  be  larger, 
and  would  require  more  time  than  you  had  at  first  expected,  and 
your  present  conviction  that  "  Even  at  the  greatest  amount  of  reduc- 
tion, it  will  be  a  large  volume,  and  that  if  the  book  reaches  pub- 
lication in  two  years,  it  will  be  as  expeditious  as  can  be  ex- 
pected," is  very  natural.  Take  heart,  however,  and  push  it  on; 
we  will  yet  see  the  realization  of  these  expectations,  and  I  suggest 
that  you  increase  your  assistant  force. 

Respectfully  and  truly  yours, 

CHARLEMAGNE  TOWER. 

PHrLADELrniA,  September  19,  1888. 

I  really  hope  that  there  may  arise  to  you  out  of  this  undertak- 
ing, some  profit  —  the  greater  the  better.  I  was  only  anxious  at 
the  out  set,  that  the  many  facts,  incidents,  and  the  abundant  di- 
versified information,  Avhich  you  had  embodied  in  your  published 
letters,  should  not  be  lost,  but  should  be  all  published  and  made 
accessible  in  a  condensed  and  inviting,  as  well  as  a  durable  fbrm. 

If  there  should  be  any  profit  from  the  work,  I  shall  be  the  more 

gratified  that  I  have  said  and  done,  what  I  have,  since  you  tell 

me  that  you  shall   appropriate  it  to  a  "  pet  scheme  "  of  yours. 

Please  accept  my  thanks  for  this  benevolent  purpose  —  "a  post- 

liumous  effort,"  though  you  say  "  it  must  be" —  and  my  sincere 

wishes  that  you  may  have  an  abundance  with  which  to  accomplish 

the  purpose. 

Very  truly  yours, 

CHARLEMAGNE  TOWER. 

Under  such  encouragement,  added  to  continued  healtli 
and  ability  to  work  (for  wliich  I  should  be  more  thank- 
ful than  I  am),  the  task  has  been  continued  until  it 
has  at  last  reached  completion.  Of  course  the  book 
could  have  been  indefinitely  enlarged,  but  it  has  passed 
the  proposed  limit  and  is  already  almost  too  cumbrous 
for  convenience. 


vi  Preface. 

To  those  who,  knowing  my  clerical  position,  inquire 
why  there  is  so  little  religious  matter  in  its  pages,  I 
reply  that  the  latter  are  made  up,  not  from  pulpit,  but 
from  newspaper  work,  whose  profits,  meagre  as  they 
are,  have  enabled  me  to  accomplish  a  clerical  service 
which  otherwise  would  have  been  impossible. 

Such  being  the  origin  of  the  present  volume,  its  title 
justly  sets  forth  the  combination  in  the  work,  making 
it  really,  Ocr  Book. 

I  would  add,  however,  in  justice  to  Mr.  Tower,  that 
I  placed  his  name  on  the  title  page  without  asking 
consent,  the  interest  he  has  manifested  in  the  joint 
efifort  being  my  only  excuse  for  this  liberty,  lie  had 
suggested  that  it  should  be  published  under  one  of  my 
best  known  pen  names,  but  I  preferred  my  own  method. 

WASHINGTON  FROTIIINGHAM. 


Since  writing  the  a])ove,  1  have  been  pained  to 
learn  of  the  death  of  my  honored  patron,  which  to(»k 
place  at  his  country  seat  in  his  native  town,  among 
his  kindred  and  the  friends  of  early  days,  and  under 
circumstances  which  befit  the  close  of  a  long  and  use- 
ful life.  I  forbear  giving  utterance  to  my  feelings 
under  such  a  shock  —  the  greater  since  I  knew  how 
deeply  he  was  interested  in  our  mutual  project.  His 
hope  to  "see  a  realization  of  these  expectations"  has 
been  denied,  thus  giving  another  proof  of  the  vanity 
of  human  wishes.  The  book  now  becomes  in  some 
degree  at  least  a  monument  to  his  memory,  and  death 
adds  a  sad  and  solemn  consecration  to  our  combined 
effort  for  public  instruction. 


OBITUARY. 


CHARLEMAGNE  TOWER'S  DEATH. 


[From  the  Utica  Herald.] 

Oneida  county  lost  one  of  her  most  famous  sons,  and  a  thriving 
village  was  bereft  of  its  greatest  benefactor  in  the  death  of 
Charlemagne  TowKR,  which  occurred  July  24  (1889),  at  Water- 
ville.  He  was  one  whose  life  of  integrity,  patient  labor  and  great 
good  to  others,  whose  widely  extending  influence  as  a  citizen  and 
as  a  professional  man,  in  war  and  in  peace,  made  him  one  of  the 
remarkable  men  of  his  country  and  of  his  time. 

Charlemagne  Tower  was  the  seventh  in  descent  from  John 
Tower,  wlio  came  to  America  from  Hingham,  in  Norfolk,  Eng- 
lind,  with  a  colony  led  by  Rev.  Peter  Ilobart,  and  settled  in 
Hingham,  Mass.,  in  the  year  1636.  His  father  was  Reuben 
Tower,  who  was  born  in  Rutland,  Worcester  county,  Mass.,  Feb- 
ruary 15,  1787,  and  who  moved  to  Oneida  county  in  the  early 
part  of  this  century.  His  father  was  active  in  the  devielopment 
of  the  public  improvements  of  his  time  in  New  York,  notably  the 
Chenango  canal,  and  was  a  member  of  the  Legislature  in  1828. 
He  died  in  St.  Augustine,  Fla.,  March  14,  1832,  whither  he  had 
made  a  horseback  journey  for  his  health.  Charlemagne's  mother 
was  Debora  Taylor  Pearce  Tower,  who  was  born  in  Little  Compton, 
R.  L,  July  6,  1785.  Charlemagne  was  born  April  18,  1809,  in  the 
township  of  Paris. 

His  Education. 
His  education  began  in  his  native  place,  was  continued  at  Ox- 
ford Academy,  Clinton  Academy  and  the  Utica  Academy,  where 
he  was  assistant  teacher  in  1825.  He  taught  school  in  the  com- 
mon schools  of  Paris  and  Marshall  for  two  consecutive  years, 
when  he  w;t8  fonrtocui  and  tiftceu  years  of  age.     Shortly  after  he 


viii  OBITUARr. 

was  also  engaged  as  a  ckrk  in  the  store  of  Hart  &  Gridley,  mer- 
chants of  tliis  city.  He  entered  the  freshman  class  at  Harvard 
University,  for  which  he  prepared  under  the  tutelage  of  Rev. 
Caleb  Stetson  of  Cambridge,  Mass.,  in  February,  1827,  and  was 
graduated  in  tlie  chxss  of  1830,  with  high  honors. 

Among  his  classmates  was  Charles  Sumner,  with  whom  he 
formed  a  close  acquaintance.  The  friendship  lasted  until  Mr. 
Sumner's  death.  Many  of  the  letters  of  their  continuous  cor- 
respondence are  published  in  Peirce's  ''Life  of  Sumner." 
Another  of  his  classmates,  with  whom  the  intimacy  of  college 
life  was  perpetuated,  was  John  0.  Sargent,  who  has  been  president 
of  the  Harvard  Association  of  New  York,  and  who  is  at  present 
living  in  that  city. 

Beginning  at  Law. 
After  graduation  in  1831,  Mr.  Tower  began  the  study  of  law  in 
the  office  of  Hermanns  Bleecker,  an  old  Dutch  patrician  of  Al- 
bany. The  death  of  his  father  in  the  following  year  recalled  him 
to  Waterville,  the  home  of  his  family,  where  he  continued  his 
studies.  Later  he  went  to  New  York  city  and  finished  his 
course  in  the  study  of  law  in  the  ofTice  of  John  L.  &  James  L. 
Graham.  He  was  admitted  to  practice  in  the  courts  of  New 
York  State  at  Utica,  in  October,  lR3fi.  His  beginning  in  the  pro- 
fession was  made  in  the  office  of  Graham  &  Sanford,  New  York, 
and  it  was  continued  in  Waterville,  where  he  was  also  engaged 
for  several  years  in  manufacturing  and  commercial  pursuits.  He 
finally  returned  to  his  practice  and  attained  a  high  positional  the 
bar  of  Oneida  county. 

Removal  to  Pennsylvania. 
Legal  questions  in  connection  with  his  charge  of  the  well-known 
Munson  estate,  then  in  litigation,  led  him  to  Schuylkill  county, 
Pennsylvania,  in  184G,  and  he  rc'mainc<l  a  resident  of  that  State, 
retaining  the  old  family  homestead  at  Waterville  as  his  summer 
home.  The  Tower  estate  is  indeed  a  feature  of  the  village.  It 
has  often  been  described.  Hundreds  of  thousands  of  dollars  have 
been  expended  upon  it,  and  $50,000  is  expended  each  year  in  keep- 
ing it  up.  The  benefits  thus  accruing  to  the  village  have  been 
very  great.  He  lived  in  Pottsville  until  1870,  when  he  removed 
his  home  to  Philadelphia. 


Obituary.  I'x 

Mr.  Tower's  cancer  at  the  bar  in  Pennsylvania  extended  over  a 
period  of  more  than  twenty  years,  and  was  exceedingly  active  and 
laborious.  He  became  especially  noted  as  an  authority  upon  the 
titles  of  lands,  being  brought  in  contact  with  some  of  the  most 
difficult  and  intricate  questions  of  law  upon  that  subject.  The 
best  legal  talent  of  the  day  was  called  upon  to  conduct  the  wide- 
spread litigation  over  the  great  coal  fields  of  the  State,  involving 
estates  of  large  value. 

Mr.  Tower  had  a  wonderful  faculty  for-mastcring  the  smallest 
details  of  his  cases,  and  he  prepared  to  meet  the  most  exacting 
inquiry,  even  going  out  upon  the  lands  themselves  with  his  corps 
of  engineers,  and  without  regard  to  the  physical  difficulties  of  the 
country,  running  the  lines  and  establishing  the  monuments  him- 
self. Such  was  the  confidence  established  in  his  knowledge, 
good  judgment  and  high  integrity,  that  it  was  not  unusual  to 
hear  him  quoted  in  open  court  as  authority.  Several  of  the  great 
leading  battles  in  which  he  was  engaged  were  protracted  for  more 
than  twenty  years  and  carried  to  a  successful  issue  on  his  part. 

Bright  and  loyal  war  Record. 

Mr.  Tower's  devotion  to  the  Union  was  uncompromising  and 
enthusiastic.  At  the  breaking  out  of  the  War  of  the  Rebellion, 
although  he  was  fifty-two  years  of  age  and  had  a  family  of  chil- 
dren and  business  interests  that  needed  his  constant  attention,  his 
loyalty  became  immediately  active.  lie  raised  two  companies 
and  part  of  a  third  in  Pottsville  within  a  week,  and  proceeded 
with  them  to  Hariisburg,  where  they  were  mustered  into  the 
United  States  service  April  21,  1861.  The  men  were  equipped 
out  of  his  own  purse. 

Mr.  Tower  received  a  captain's  commission  at  the  time  of  the 
muster  and  commanded  throughout  the  terra  of  three  months'  serv- 
ice. Company  H,  Sixth  Regiment  of  Pennsylvania  volunteers,  to 
which  his  men  were  attached.  He  declined  to  accept  higher 
rank  becan^ie  he  had  promised  to  stay  with  his  men.  He  took 
part  in  tiic  campaign  under  the  command  of  General  Robert 
Patterson,  and  was  at  the  battle  of  Falling  Waters,  Va.,  one  of 
the  earliest  engagements  of  the  war,  having  crossed  the  Potomac 
liver  at  Williamsport,  June  21,  1861. 

At  the  end  of  the  three  months'  service,  he  and  his  men  were  mus- 
tered out  of  service  at  Harrisburg,  June  26,  1861,  and  Mr.  Tower 


X  Obituary. 

relurned  to  his  family.  He  afterward  enlisted  another  full  com- 
pany for  tliree  years'  service,  paying  to  each  man  a  bounty  of  five 
dollars.  This  became  Company  C,  Forty-eighth  Regiment,  Pennsyl- 
vania volunteers,  which  performed  distinguished  service  under  the 
command  of  Captain  Henry  Pleasants,  afterward  brigadier  general 
and  engineer  in  charge  of  the  Petersburg  mine,  who  was  his  lieu- 
tenant during  the  three  months'  service.  On  August  15,  1861,  the 
Tower  Guards,  who  had  served  under  Mr.  Tow^eu,  marched  to  his 
residence  in  Pottsville  and  presented  him  with  a  handsome  sword 
bearing  an  a])propriate  inscription.  Mr.  Toweu  served  as  United 
States  ])rovost  marshal  for  the  tenth  Pennsylvania  congressional 
district  from  April  18,  18G3,  until  May  1,  1867,  when  he  resigned, 
having  won  distinction  at  Washington  by  his  administration. 

After  the   War. 

When  the  war  was  over  Mr.  Tower  returned  to  the  practice 
of  his  profession,  which  he  continued  until  his  removal  to  Phil- 
adelphia. He  had  acquired  large  bodies  of  coal  lands  and  other 
business  interests,  to  the  development  of  which  lie  devoted  him- 
self after  his  retirement  from  activity  at  the  bar  in  1872.  He  was 
one  of  the  promoters  and  for  many  years  a  director  of  the  North- 
ern Pacific  railroad.  In  connection  with  Charles  B.  Wright  he 
rendered  particularly  valuable  assistance  to  the  company.  In  all 
tiie  vicissitudes  of  the  enterprise  Mr.  Toweu  never  lost  confidence 
in  its  ultimate  success,  and  the  great  part  it  was  to  play  in  the 
development  of  the  country  through  which  the  road  was 
built.  With  liis  other  property,  he  had  extensive  interests  in 
lands  in  Wasliington  territory,  Dakota  and  Minnesota.  He  was  a 
member  of  the  G.  A.  R.  and  the  Loyal  Legion. 

Greatest  Undertaking. 

Proi)ably  Mr.  Tower's  most  successful  enterprise  was  the  de- 
velopment of  the  great  Vermillion  iron  district  in  Minnesota,  un- 
dertaken when  he  was  seventy-two  years  of  age.  These  ore 
bodies,  to  which  his  attention  was  first  called  in  1875,  and  to 
which  he  sent  several  investigating  expeditions,  that  reported 
favorably,  lay  in  St.  Louis  county,  Minnesota,  ninety  miles  north- 
east of  Duluth.  The  country  presented  almost  insurmountable 
obstacles.  But  the  indomitable  courage  of  Mr.  Tower  did  not 
yield  in  the  least. 


Obituary.  xi 

Tlic  opening  and  working  of  iron  mines  so  far  from  the  border 
of  civilization,  implied  a  formidable  expenditure;  a  railroad  one 
hundred  miles  long  must  be  built  and  equipped,  and  docks,  and 
harbors  must  be  built.  Experienced  business  men  drew  back 
from  the  enterprise,  but  Mr.  Tower  single-handed,  determined  to 
carry  it  through.  He  built  the  railroad,  erected  docks  and  all  the 
buildings  necessary,  and  in  addition  had  so  far  developed  the 
mines,  that  when  the  railroad  was  completed,  their  product  was 
ready  for  shipment. 

The  first  shipment  was  made  to  Cleveland  in  August,  1884.  A 
town  called  Tower  sprang  up  at  the  mines  which  to-day  employ 
from  1,500  to  1,800  men,  and  another  at  tlie  railroad  terminus  on 
Lake  Superior.  Tlie  shipment  of  ore  from  Tower  in  1884,  the 
first  year,  was  08,000  tons,  and  in  1887  had  increased  to  400,000 
tons.  This  enterprise  to-day  gives  support  to  5,000  people,  and 
is  grow^ing  steadily. 

This  industry,  planted  by  the  hand  of  a  single  man  in  a  remote 
and  difiicult  country,  will  be  a  grand  monument  to  Mr.  Tower's 
memory.  It  placed  Minnesota,  hitherto  unknown  as  a  mineral 
producing  district,  in  the  space  of  four  years^  among  tlie  foremost 
iron  markets  of  the  United  States.  A  syn<licate  was  formed  in 
1887  wliich  purchased  the  entire  property  for  $6,000,000,  Mr. 
Tower  retaining,  however,  a  large  interest. 

Such  is  the  record  of  the  life  of  this  remarkable  man.  He  lived 
to  see  his  enterprise  thoroughly  successful  and  increasing  in  im- 
portance and  benefit  to  the  country  every  day.  Tlis  life  of  eighty 
years  made  its  influence  felt  in  every  direction  throughout  the 
United  States  and  resulted  in  good  to  thousands  of  people,  and  it 
will  continue  to  be  felt. for  years  to  come. 

The  funeral  was  attended  by  a  multitude  from  far  and  near  and 
amid  this  general  sorrow  his  remains  were  laid  to  rest  by  the  side 
of  his  ancestors  in  hope  of  a  glorious  resurrection. 


INDEX. 


Actors'  graves,  330 — their  fame  tran- 
sitory, 395 — difBculties  in  retire- 
ment, 391 — their  jealousies,  401 — 
their  marriages,  408 — their  greatest 
danger,  41  fi. 

Adams,  John,  his  marriage,  8 — his 
defeat  and  disappointment,  583. 

Addison  originates  "'talking  one  to 
death,"  57 — satirized  by  I'ope,  67 — 
wedded  infelicity,  15 — attempt  at 
journalism,  333. 

Ages  of  literary  women,  85. 

Alexander  family,  578 — James  W.,  liLs 
forty  years'  correspondence,  175. 

Alone  in  Africa,  Miss  Landon,  47. 

Amateur  theatricals  and  performer.*, 
405. 

American  magazines — first  periodical 
issued  in  America,  C>0. 

Ancient  Mariner,  by  Coleridge — afail- 
ure  wlien  first  published,  52. 

Ann  street,  interesting  associations, 
327. 

Anonymous  publications,  noted  in- 
stances,  111. 

Astor,  Waldorf's,  novel,  40  —  Astor 
library,  42,  337. 

Astronomy,  Wordsworth's  humane 
notions,  231 — hard  times  in  Saturn, 
232. 

Augfustin's  love  of  the  theatre,  301. 

Autobiography,  dramatic,  1G6 — gen- 
eral details,  107 — the  earliest  in  our 
language,  170. 

Author's  difficulties,  28 — their  small 
pay,  30 — their  sufferings,  37 — their 
graves,  134. 

Authors  and  aunts — early  care  thus 
given  to  Scott,  Gibbon,  Gray  and 
Lamb,  308. 

B. 

Bachelors,  literary,  8. 

Bacon,  absurdity  of  his  claims  to 
authorship  of  Shakespeare,  354. 

Bainbridtre  captures  the  "Java,"  507. 

Bancroft  finishes  his  history  at  eighty- 
four,  49. 


Barlow,  Joel,  personal  sketch,  86— 
his  painful  death,  88. 

Battle  of  New  Orleans,  498. 

Bayard  Taylor's  fine  appearance,  4. 

Beaumont  and  Fletcher,  their  literary 
union,  286. 

Bi'ggar's  opera,  written  to  ridicule 
the  Italian  opera,  34. 

Benefits,  theatrical,  400. 

Bennett's  earlv  struggles  to  establish 
the  "  Herald,"  339— his  death,  328. 

Benjamin,  Park,  publishes  the  "Ever- 
green," 61. 

Beikeley,  Bishop,  his  famous  line,  57. 

Betterton's  Hamlet,  the  first  on  re- 
cord. 400. 

Biblia  Pauperum,  its  rarity,  94. 

Bibliomania,  some  noted  instances, 
90. 

Blair,  Professor,  a  dupe  to  Ossian, 
102 

Blue  Laws,  origin  of  the  term,  123. 

Bohemian  life,  43. 

Book  making,  23 — books  declined  and 
yet  successful,  27  —  book  names 
and  origin,  54 — high  prices  of  rare 
works,  92. 

Booth,  Junius  Brutus,  365. 

Boswell,  contemporary  with  Gibbon, 
207 — his  lottery  ticket  mania,  208 — 
seven  years  writing  the  life  of  John- 
son, 49. 

Botta's  life  of  Washington,  478. 

Boy  dell's  Shakespeare,  its  great  co.st, 
92. 

Bradford,  William,  first  printer  in 
New  York,  313— his  rare  book,  314 
— his  jealousy  of  Franklin,  315. 

British  and  American  naval  battles, 
506. 

British  Spy — written  by  William  Wirt 
as  a  retort   on    foreign    tourists, 
594. 
Bronte,    Charlotte,  and    her  sisters, 

their  ambitions  and  sorrows,  82. 
Brown,  Charles  Brockden,  publishes 
his  novels  anonymously,  114 — dies 
at  39,  133. 
Bryant  finds  consolation  in  translat- 
ing Homer,  37. 


XIV 


Index. 


liurko    publinhes   his    maiden    work 
anonymously,  112— his  death,    131. 

Burney,  Miss,   publishes  Evelina  an- 
onymously, 112. 

Burr,  Aaron,  his  biographers,  541 — 
fictions  concerning  him,  542 — buys 
Richmond  Hill,  544 — voyage  up  the 
Hudson,  its  incidents,  545 — Theo- 
dosia's  marriage.  546 — Burr  por- 
trayed by  an  English  tourist,  549 — 
Bun's  Hr»t  wife,  550 — settles  in 
New  York,  551 — Theodosia's  sor- 
rows begin,  555 — Burr  in  quest  of  a 
wife,  556 — asks  Theodosia  s  coun- 
sel in  the  efifort,  558 — almost  en 
gaged  to  Celeste,  562 — the  power  of 
women  over  him.  506 — his  letters 
from  Europe,  566 — bis  return,  667 
— marries  Madame  Jumel,  570 — is 
divorced,  571 — his  death,  571 — por- 
traits by  Vanderlyn,  573  —  Burr 
opens  the  mysterious  trunk,  674 — 
his  daughter  s  sad  letters,  575 — lost 
at  sea,  576 — Alston,  Burr's  son-in- 
law,  his  sorrows,  676  —  Burr's 
grave.  577. 

Bums'  personal  beauty,  2 — pictured 
by  Scott,  213— Scott's  high  esti- 
mate, 213— Burns  compared  with 
Byron,  214 — Lockhurt's  tribute  to 
Burns,  215 — Burns  contrasted  with 
Allan  Ramsav,  215  —  Burns'  death 
marks  new  birth  of  genius,  215 — 
his  letters,  174. 

Byron's  lameness,  2 — his  satire  on 
the  Prince  Regent,  67 — Byron  ridi- 
culed in  Rejected  Addresses,  155  — 
his  autobiography  suppressed,  168 
— his  first  love,  266 — lie  visits  the 
Orient,  267 — publishes  Childe  Har- 
old, 261 — his  marriage,  2'i(i — rea- 
son why  his  wife  deserted  him,  270 
— life  in  Italy  and  Greece,  273 — 
death  and  burial,  275 — his  descend- 
ants, 276 — Ills  influence  on  Scott, 
27h— his  artificiality,  279 — his  tal- 
ent as  an  amateur  player,  406 — 
receives  .£2,500  for  his  tragedies, 
38S— he  eulogizes  Washington,  4H3 
— wants  to  start  a  paper,  335— his 
regrets  over  his  past  life,  347 — his 
noblest  utterance,  280— Hours  of 
Idleness  published  in  a  country 
town,  2S4 — Byron  never  knew  the 
name  of  the  critic  that  attacked  it  in 
"  Edinburgh  Review,"  2><5  — did  not 
at  first  intend  publishing  Childe 
Harold,  284 — his  interesting  letters, 
174  —  love  of  scenes  of  boyhood, 
310 — builds  a  vault  for  self  and 
dog,    181 — indifference  to  his  title, 


41 — writes  the  Corsair  in  ten  days, 
and  the  Bride  of  Abydos  in  four,' 
282— his  small  head,  283— his  re- 
quest to  be  but  led  with  his  dog,  286. 

C. 

Cadell,  the  publisher,  gives  Gibbon  a 
dinner  to  celebrate  tne  completion 
of  his  great  work,  28. 
Campbell, .Thomas,    his   genius   and 
sorrow,  121 — his  death  scene,  125 — 
Exile  of  Erin   claimed  by  another 
man,   145. 
Candidates,  disappointed,  583. 
Cary,  I'hoebe  ana  Alice,  their  strug- 
gles and  triumphs,  84 — their  graves, 
135. 
Castle  of  Indolence,  written  by  Thom- 
son to  condemn  indolence,  289. 
Caxton's  publications,  94. 
Ctianning,  William  E.,  297. 
Childe  Harold,  its  first  name,  55. 
Chesterfield's  letters,  173. 
Chatterton's    fraud,    103 — his    grand 

utterance,  58 — his  death,  120. 
Churchill,  the  satirist,  129. 
Cibber,  Colley,  reminiscences,  894. 
Citizen  of  the  World,  by  Goldsmith, 

335. 
Clergymen  and  their  titles,  157. 
Clay's    defeat    and    disappointment, 

684 — his  oratory,  516. 
Clinton,  DeWitt,  his  bitter  humilia- 
tion,   681 — his  exaltation,  582 — his 
property  sold  after  his  death  by  the 
sheriff,  501 — his   vases   bought   by 
the  Grand   Lodge   and  restored  to 
the  family,  502. 
Comparison  between  Scott  and  Na- 
poleon, 197. 
Comus,  played  as  a  benefit,  401. 
Congress,  the  first  meets  in  Albany, 
451 — the  second  in  New  York,  453 
— the  third  in  Philadelphia,  454. 
Controversy  about  Ossian,  102. 
Contrast,    a   play    written    by   Royal 

Tyler,  3Sl. 
Coleridge,    family  troubles,    20 — epi- 
taph   on    himself,    119 — tribute   to 
him   by   Cliarlcs  Lamb,  163 — Cole- 
ridge &    Wordsworth    in    partner- 
ship, 288 — effect  of  opium  on  Cole- 
ridge, 165 — his  wonderful  gifts,  164- 
Cooper,  fine  personal  appearance,  4 — 
his  reason  for  writing  the  Pilot,  83. 
Cooke,     George    Frederick,    sudden 
death,   and  monument  erected  by 
Kean,  364. 
Costly  books,  92. 
Cottle,  Joseph, publishes  for  Soul  hey, 


Index. 


XV 


also  for  Wordsworth   &  Coleridge, 

46. 
Courtship,  how  killed,  19. 
Couplet  saves  two  poets,  139. 
Cowper's  love,  15. 

Croaker  &  Co.  (Halleck  &  Drake),  287. 
Criminal  autobigraphy,  170. 
Cushman,  Charlotte,  buried  in  Mount 

Auburn,  367. 

D. 

Danton's  expectation  of  fame,  136. 

Davidson.  Lucretia  and  Margaret, 
their  rare  precocity,  83. 

Davis,  John,  originates  the  false  story 
about  Jefferson,  592 — satirizes  Jef- 
ferson, 594 — his  travels  in  America, 
589 — his  description  of  Washington 
city,  590. 

Davenant,  Sir  William,  founder  of 
the  British  stage,  418. 

Dead  of  1832,    impressive  poem,  113. 

Death  on  the  stage,  393. 

Death  of  editors,  328. 

Decatur  captures  the  "  Macedonian," 
507. 

Declaration  of  Independence,  its 
signers,  463 — their  ages  and  death, 
the  two  oldest,  465— Fourth  of  July, 
an  interesting  celebration,  466. 

Debut  on  the  stage  very  expensive, 
398. 

De  Foe's  vicissitudes,  180. 

Dennis,  John,  the  poet,  Pope's  kind- 
ness, 401. 

De  Quincey's  confessions  create  a 
sensation,  35. 

Dickens'  domestic  nnhappiness,  9 — 
his  first  appearance  in  America,  176 
—his  object  in  writing  Oliver  Twist, 
35 — his  death,  132 — dies  in  posses- 
sion of  his  copy-right,  47. 

Disappointed  candidates,  583. 

Doctor,  The,  bj  Southey,  112. 

Doctors  of  divinity,  188. 

Dodsley  the  publisher,  fornierlv  a 
servant,  138. 

Doyer  street,  a  memorial  of  Wash- 
ington, 487. 

Drake,  Joseph  Rodman,  personal 
sketch,  133. 

Drama,  The  Greek,  360— mortuary 
record,   362. 

Dramatic  literature. 

Dramatic  salaries  in  old  times,  376. 

Drvden  alters  the  Tempest,  also 
troilus  and  Cressida,  179. 

Duel,  the  last  fatal,  in  New  Vork,  540. 

Dunciad,  by  Pope,  published  anony- 
mously, il2. 


Duyckinck  brothers,  their  great  ser- 
vice to  American  literature,  287. 
Dying  abroad,    noted  instances,  595. 

E. 

Backer's  duel  with  PhiUp  Hamilton, 

538— his  grave,  539. 
Editors'  deaths,  impressive  array,  328. 
Edwards,  Jonathan,  his  humiliation, 

581. 
Elzevirs,  their   rare  editions,  29. 
Emerson,    R.     W.,  early  lectures  in 

Boston,  298. 
Evelina,    by    Mrs.    Burney,    issued 

anonymously,  112. 
Everett's    address    on   Washington, 

480. 

F. 

Farmers'  Museum,  its  interesting  fea- 
tures, 187. 

Father  Prout's  joke  on  Tom  Moore, 
155. 

Fay,  Theodore,  his  judicious  remarks 
on  Shakespeare,  426. 

Federalist,  originally  appeared  in  a 
newspaper,  325. 

Fielding's  new  reading  of  Shakes- 
peare, 426. 

First  monthly  magazine  in  America, 
60. 

First  American  play,  380. 

First  libel  suit  in  New  York,  324. 

First  in  war,  first  in  peace,  etc.,  its 
author,  499. 

Fitch,  John,  first  inventor  of  the 
steamboat,  505 — his  sad    fate,  505. 

Forrest,  Edwin,  personal  facts.  365. 

Formosa,  fabulous  description  by 
George  Psalmanazer,  100. 

Founder  of  British  stage,  417. 

Franklin,  Benjamin,  his  scheme  of 
union,  452 — his  service  in  old  age, 
457 — his  pen  name,  321 — his  early 
difficulties,  323 — falsely  accused  of 
plagiarism,  134 — his  autobiogra- 
phy, 169. 

Franklin,  James,  reason  for  his  im- 
prisonment, 320. 

Frankenstein,  by  Mrs.  Shelley,  its 
strange  character,  42. 

Fulton,  Robert,  builds  the  "  Cler- 
mont," 503 — description  of  that 
vessel,  504 — his  brief  career,  504. 

Fun  turned  to  fact,  in  the  Suez  canal, 
65. 

G. 

Garrick,  personal  sketch,  369 — orig- 
inates the  fund  for  decayed  actors, 
398 — chief  characteristics,  370. 


XVI 


Index. 


Gay's  cbjcct  in  writing  the  Beggar's 
Opera,  34 — his  humorous  expecta- 
tion of  fame,  137. 

Genius,  its  volcanic  outbursts,  332. 

Gibbon's  carlv  love,  '.• — Gibbon  a 
modest  author,  2^  —  his  autobi- 
grapby,  168 — his  tribute  to  his  aunt, 
30s— his  death,  128 — his  style  cen- 
sured by  Noah  Webster,  179 — he 
corrects  a  Paris  professor,  178 — is 
the  first  author  surgically  exam- 
ined after  death,  2fi3— receives  |30,- 
000  for  Decline  and  Fall,  31. 

Goethe,  Bvron's  adniiriition  of  I.I.m 
genius — his  eternal  sunset,  IHO. 

Godfrey,  Thomas,  writes  Prince  of 
Parthia.  1^5. 

Goldsmith's  raillery  on  Garrick,  371 
— his  early  love,  the  "Jessamine 
Bride,"  b — receives  £500  fcir  a  play, 
888— his  Citizen  of  the  World  wnt- 
ten  for  the  newspapers,  32."). 

Government  hostility  to  early  prin- 
ters, 323 . 

Grant  memories,  "Let  us  have 
Peace,"  169. 

Graves  of  authors.  134. 

Gray's  Elegy,  160— his  letters,  173. 

Grave  oldest  of  any  author,  119. 

Greeley's  death,  328 — his  humble  be- 
ginning, 338 — his  confessions,  33'.' 
—  his  rapidity,  331 — publishes  the 
New  Yorker,  340  — pen  portrait,  332 
— makes  the  same  political  blunder 
as  Burr,  544. 

Greek  drama,  its  character,  306. 


Balliwell's  magnificent  edition  of 
Shakespeare,  3.tI. 

Halleck  writes  closing  lines  of  Drake' s 
American  Flag,  2'<7 — his  share  in 
Croaker  &  Co.,  2h7-^is  beautiful 
tribute  to  Joseph  Rodman  Drake, 
118— his  grave,  134. 

Hamilton,  Alexander,  wonderful  pre- 
cocity. 524 — his  t'jirtecn  tiees,  526 
— duel  with  Bur',  527 — the  funeral, 
581 — his  wi.l,  533— he  is  honored  by 
the  Cincinnati,  534 — house  where 
he  died,  536 — his  monument,  538 — 
Hamilton  and  Backer  duel,  538 — 
Eacker's  grave,  539 — Hamilton  the 
chief  author  of  the  Federalist,  325. 

Harvard  College  ridiculed  bv  James 
Franklin.  320. 

Hancock,  John,  his  eloquence,  467. 

Happiness  from  self  denial.  In,  21. 

Uarleian  miscellany,  u  curious  collec- 
tion, 93. 


Harvard  College  caricatured,  319. 
Hasty  Pudding,  by  Barlow,  88. 
Hawthorne,  296 — bis  dreamy  aspect, 

5 — his    unfinished     work,    50 — his 

dramatic  power,  422. 
Historical  cycles,  51  s. 
Hofifman,  Charles  F.,  starts  the  Knick- 
erbocker— author  of   "Monterey" 

— beconn-s  insane,  263. 
Holmes,    O.   W.,  his  poem  saves  the 

Constitution,  2'.t7. 
Homer    mentions    the    faithful  dog 

Argus,  ls2. 
Howard,  John,  the  philanthropist,  his 

last  tour,  462. 
Hull  captures  the   "  Guerriere,"  507. 
Hyperion,  by  Longfellow,  meaning  of 

the  ns 


lame,  55. 


I. 


Ichabod,  by  Whittier,  a  satire  on 
Daniel  Webster,  OS. 

Imaginary  plagiarism,  ir)3. 

Inauguration,  Washington's,  459. 

Inlaying  and  illustrating  books,  289. 

Intemperance  of  actors,  416. 

Interpolations  and  alterations  of 
books,  120. 

Ireland,  Samuel,  his  Shakespeare 
fraud,  105. 

Irving,  Washington,  his  cheerful- 
ness, 195 — his  personal  ajipearancc, 
232 — IJrst  visits  Europe  and  meets 
Allston,  234 — early  literary  efforts, 
23.5— loses  his  beiVothed,  236— his 
acquaintance  with  Burr,  23^ — his 
second  foreign  tour  and  dark  hours, 
240 — edits  "Analectic  Magazine,"  61 
— success  at  last,  243 — meets  John 
Howard  Payne,  244 — coins  the 
"almighty  dollar,"  59 — amateur 
dramatic  player,  400 — publishes 
Life  of  Columbus, 24S — return  from 
Europe,  249 — mission  to  Madrid, 
250— life  of  Washington,  252— his 
death  and  burial,  255— his  will,  256 
— his  three  sisters,  257 — Irving  and 
the  ghost,  260 — Irving' a  sorrows, 
264. 

J. 

Jackson's  defense  of  New  Orleans,  499 
— he  does  not  know  his  election  to 
the  presidency  three  weeks  after  it 
occurred,  5^6. 

Jealousy  of  actors,  404. 

Jefferson's  poverty,  558 — his  regrets 
for  attacking  Washington,  475. 

Johnson  writes  Rasselas  in  a  week, 
35 — his  failure  as  an  editor,  3.34  — 


Index. 


xvu 


bis  opinion  on  Chatterton  and  Os- 
sian,  104 — his  mental  disease,  195 — 
his  fear  of  death,  127 — biographical 
sketch,  200— touched  by  Queen  Anne 
for  scrofula,  167. 

Jones,  Paul,  his  naval  victories,  521. 

Journalism,  old  papers,  311. 

Jumel,  Stephen,  buys  the  Morris 
house,  568. 

Junius,  full  review  of  the  wonderful 
unknown, 217 — extracts  from  hislet- 
ters,  2 1 9— his  generosity,  48, 220, 229 
— scope  of  information,  221 — con- 
sciousness of  danger,  222 — methcl 
of  communication,  223 — his  styl.- 
examined,  225 — his  hidden  friend- 
ship, 225 — reason  for  stopping  his 
letters,  226 — who  was  Junius?  220. 

K. 

Kean,  Charles,  and  Ellen  Tree,  428. 

Kean,  Edmund,  his  versatility,  414— 
erects  a  monument  to  Cooke,  31)5. 

Keats'  death,  161 — Byron's  words 
concerning  him,  161  —  buried  at 
Rome,  162— his  St.  Agnes'  Eve,  162 
— his  melancholy  contession,  196 — 
Keats  and  Drake,  a  parallel,  163. 

Kemble  family,  rare  histrionic  gifts, 
409. 

Kemble,  John  Philip,  his  Hamlet,  362. 

Knowles,  Sheridan,  writes  Virginius, 
376 — his  triumph,  375. 


Lamb,  Charles,  his  tragedy  rejected, 
51 — his  social  life,  52 — his  sister's 
insanity,  51 — his  farce  damned,  423 
— his  painful  letter,  174 — suppres- 
ses his  retort  on  Southey,  183 — finds 
leisure  painful,  289 — tells  the  origin 
of  Elia,  55 — why  he  never  married, 
8 — Lamb  <fe  Coleridge  in  partner- 
ship, 2S8 — Mary  ana  her  brother, 
also  in  literary  partnership,  288. 

Lame  poets,  2. 

Lamia,  by  Keats,  found  in  modern  so- 
ciety, 17. 

Lawrence,  Captain  James,  his  death 
and  funeral,  508. 

Landon,  Miss,  licr  sad  fate,  47. 

Latimer's  sermons,  175. 

Lear  forbidden  by  British  govern- 
ment, 390. 

Ledyard,  John,  his  remarkable  travels 
— buried  near  the  Pyramids,  522. 

Lessons  to  authors,  28. 

Lenox,  James,  his  rare  books,  94 — 
his  library  contains  3,000  Bibles,  95. 


Lewis  A  Clark,  their  wonderful  ex- 
ploring tour,  517. 

Libel  suit,  the  first  in  New  York,  324. 

Library,  first  collected  in  Rome,  90. 

Literary  marriages,  5. 

Literary  sisters,  82. 

Literary  women,  their  ages,  85. 

Literary  frauds,  97. 

Literary  autobiographies,  167  —  tlie 
three  most  important,  166. 

Literary  correspondence,  172. 

Literary  publishers,  138. 

Literary  copartnerships,  Beaumont 
&  Fletcher,  also  Halleck  <fe  Drake, 
with  other  noted  coworkers,  286. 

Literary  bachelors,  8. 

Livingston,  remarkable  family,  455. 

London  "  Times,"  £5,000  offered  for 
a  file,  331. 

Longfellow,  not  a  poetic  face,  4. 

Lotteries,  Boswell's  mania  for,  208. 

M. 

Macaulay's  lesson  to  public  men,  581. 

Mucready's  irritability,  167,  375 — his 
emotions  at  Kean's  funeral,  396. 

Madison's  public  services,  506 — his 
eloquence,  510. 

Margaret,  by  Judd,  its  high  character, 
42. 

Mad  poet,  McDonald  Clarke,  114. 

Marriages,  literary,  5. 

Marriages  of  actors,  408. 

Married  men  in  pablic  life,  461. 

Marshall's  life  or  Washington,  477. 

Matrimonial  difficulties,  22. 

Matthews,  the  comedian,  363. 

Mazarin  Bible,  its  rarity,  95. 

McPherson,  publishes  (Jssian,  a  fraud, 
101. 

Melancholy  authors,  195. 

Melmoth,  the  Wanderer,  a  strange 
story,  42. 

Metamora,  a  prize  plav  written  for 
Forrest,  404. 

.Midnight  in  Wall  street,  602. 

Milman's  Apollo  Belvidere,  139. 

Milton's  domestic  troubles,  16 — his 
grand-daughter,  401 — his  first  pub- 
lisher, 30 — his  tribute  to  Shakes- 
peare, 118. 

Mirror,  New  York,  conducted  bj'  Mor- 
ris &  Willis,  61. 

Monroe,  President,  his  poverty,  457. 

Moore,  Thomas,  personal  sketch,  71 
— the  smallest  poet,  2— was  paid 
£3,000  for  Lalla  Rooke.  31— visits 
America,  74 — satirises  Washington 
city,  76  —  his  marriage,  79 — and 
death,  81 — his  letters  full  of  filial 


XV  HI 


Index. 


affection,   IT-*^— falsely   accused  of 
plagiarism,  155. 
Munchausen,  Baron,   in  joke  proph- 
esies the  Suez  canal,  C4. 

N. 

Napoleon's  famous  utterances,  197 — 
his  conscience  awakened  by  crime, 
200 — Napoleon  on  the  stage,  407. 

National  matters,  450. 

Neglected  literary  beauties,  139. 

New  Orleans  battle,  499. 

New  York  printers  in  the  olden  time, 
31.3. 

Newspaper,  the  first  in  America,  312. 

Newspaper  files,  their  value,  331. 

Noah,  M.  M.,  personal  reference,  33C. 


Old  publishers,  "  The  Elzevirs,"  29. 

Old  theatrical  costume.s,  403. 

Ophidian,  The  i  Madame  Kachel),  402. 

Ossian  a  fraud,  101 — controversy  con- 
cerning its  authenticity,  101- -Pro- 
fessor Blair  a  dupe,  102. 


Pacific  railroad,  its  projector,  519. 
Paine,  Thomas,    290 — interviewed  bv 

Gran»   Thorburn,     293  -  his     will, 

294 — his  namesake,  29.">. 
Parallels,  remarkable,  141. 
Parker,  Theodore,  dies  abroad,  119. 
Paul  Jones,  his  naval  achievements, 

521. 
Paul  and  Virginia,  its  curious  origin, 

15s — translated  during  the  Reign  of 

Terror,  158. 
Payne, John  Howard, personal  sketch, 

3S5 — is    the    original   of    Irving's 

Buckthorn,  258. 
Peculiar  books,  42. 
Penally  of  success,  193. 
I'en  names,  mteresting  list,  108. 
Pepvs'  diary  published  122  years  after 

his  death,'  193. 
Periodical  literature,  59. 
Play  writing,  379. 

Players'  benefits,  their  antiquity,  400. 
Plagiarism,  remarkable  instances,  140 

— imaginary,  153. 
Play  actors'   sufferings,  374. 
Plays,  unsuccessful,  422. 
Pleasures  of  Hope,  its  first  appearance 

in  America,  121. 
Poetical    collections,    their    defects, 

139. 
Poc's  Raven,  its  first  appearance,  53 — 


his  tales  due  to  morbid  intellect, 
195 — he  might  have  been  a  trage- 
dian, 421. 

Poor  Man's  Bible,  the  earliest  book 
ever  printed,  94. 

Pope's  deformity,  1 — his  letters  pub- 
lished in  self  defense,  172 — bitterly 
attacked  by  other  writers,  190 — his 
generosity,  190 — and  his  quarrels, 
l'.*2 — his  satire  on  Addison,  his  life 
a  long  disease,  127. 

Popular  utterances,  their  origin,  M. 

Porter,  Jane  and  Anna,  gifted  sisters, 
83. 

Portfolio,  published  for  twenty-seven 
years,  61. 

Pressure  for  the  stage,  its  folly,  398. 

Pres"byterv  aping  prelacy,  57'.'. 

Prince  of  Partbia,  first  American 
tragedy,  185. 

Princeton  memories,  578. 

Prologue,  the  earliest  ever  written, 
420. 

Prologues  and  epilogues,  367. 

Professional  reading  performed  for 
publishers,  25. 

Psalmanzer,  George,  his  Formosa 
fraud,  97  —  his  penitence,  100  — 
never  reveals  his  name.  101. 

Publishers  and  authors,  45. 

Purchas'  Pilgrimage,  the  author  a 
stay-at-home  traveller,  196. 


Quincy,  John,  the  first  American  ama- 
teur of  Shakespeare,  354. 

R. 
Rachel,  the  Ophidian,  402 — described 

by  Mrs.  Ritchie,  403. 
Randolph's  opposition  to  the  War  of 

1812,     514 — his    burning    oratory, 

515^-duel  with  Henry  Clay,  513. 
Raymond,  Henry  J.,  his  death,  328— 

his  rapidity  and   elegance  of  style, 

331. 
Religious  lessons,  640. 
Remarkable  parallels  in  poetry,  141. 
Resurrection  of  the  devil,  8^8. 
Rejected  books,  yet  successful,  27. 
Rejected  Addresses,  declined  by  Mur- 
ray,   27 — its   skillful  imitations  of 

authors,  154. 
Rich  authors,  40— American,  41 . 
Rich  copyrights,  47. 
Richardson,  author  of  Claris.sa  Har- 

lowe,  138 — is  ridiculed  by  Fielding, 

138. 
Rivington,   James,  the  Tory  printer, 

Z\^ — his  malicious  fraud,    1m7. 


Index. 


XIX 


Robinson  Crusoe,  said  to  be  written 
by  the  Earl  of  Oxford,  357. 

Roscius,  the  3'oung,  his  brilliant  suc- 
cess, 383 — loses  popularity,  385. 

Rowe  and  Dryden,  55. 

Rowley  Papers,  by  Chatterton,  103. 

Ruin  from  stock  speculation,  635. 

s. 

Sands,  R.  C,  only  poet  buried  in 
New  York,  114— his  Dead  of  1S32, 
115. 

Satanic  Press,  the  first,  318. 

Satire,  three  greatest,  66. 

Saved  by  a  couplet,  139. 

Savage,  Richard,  his  sad  fate,  44. 

Salmagundi,  its  brief  career,  62. 

Schuyler  unjustly  superseded  bv 
Gates,  581. 

Scott,  Gen.  Winfield,  his  political 
defeat,  535. 

Scott,  Walter,  autobiography  and 
diary,  168 — his  lameness,  2 — love 
matters,  10 — his  wife,  13 — his  small 
brain,  283 — his  regret  at  unfrater- 
nal  conduct,  346  —  large  fee  for 
Marmion,  30 — his  dogs  Camp  and 
Maida,  182 — serves  as  a  newspaper 
reporter,  33G — his  immense  earn- 
ings, 48 — his  Waverly  lies  two  years 
unfinished,  52 — claims  the  right  to 
deny  authorship,  36— his  sermons, 
their  enormous  price,  304. 

Self  denial  and  happiness,  18. 

Sensation  created  in  London  by  the 
capture  of  tlie  British  frigates,  508. 

Sheridan's  genius  and  misery,  364. 

Shelley's  unhappiness,  10. 

Shilling,  the  old  theatre  price,  378. 

Shakespeare's  expressions  in  modern 
slang,  347 — Rosalind  can  only  be 
played  by  a  tall  woman.  349 — his 
critics,  349 — Hamlet,  new  reading 
by  Uenrj  Irving,  350 — Halliwell's 
grand  edition,  351 — Shakespeare's 

feography,  351 — his  rambles,  352 — 
irst  American  amateur,  353  — 
Shakespeare  abandons  his  family, 
341 — noble  conduct  of  his  wife,  341 
— slow  progress  of  his  fame,  342 — 
his  family  troubles,  343 — he  ridi- 
cules his  wife,  344 — but  changes 
censure  to  praise,  345 — names  used 
in  his  plays,  424 — his  commenta- 
tors, 425. 
Siddons,  Mrs.,  her  wonderful  power, 
410 — her  sufferings  after  retire 
ment,  391 — she  encourages  Ma- 
cready,  411 — Irving' s  admiration, 
410. 


Simms,  .7.  R.,  publishes  Tryon  County 

Committee,   194. 
Southey's  marriage,  7 — novel  court- 
ship, 14. 
Sparks'  Life  of  Washington,  479. 
Speculation,   its  dangers  illustrated 

by  a  tale,  603. 
Spectator,    Addison's  reason   of   its 

failure,  333. 
Stage  fright,  described  by  Macready, 

and  by  Anna  Cora  Mowatt,  428. 
Stage  solecisms,  382. 
Stage  fever,  its  dangers,  398. 
Stuart's  portrait  of  Washington,  484. 
St.   Paul  s   church  yard,    interesting 

graves,  601. 
St.    Leon,    by   William  Godwin,  its 

peculiar  character,  42. 
Sutferings  of  actors,  374 — especially 

after  retirement,  391. 
Suppressed  works,  and  reasons  why, 

182. 
Swift,  dies  like  a  tree,  at  the  top,  130 

— his  epitaph,  written  by  himself, 

131. 


Taylor,  Bayard,  the  unequalled  tour- 
ist, 596— his  grave,  134. 

Tempest,  extended  analysis,  429 — its 
combination  of  evil  and  good,  434 — 
its  beautiful  moral  lesson,  444 — 
confession  made  by  its  author, 
448. 

Telegraphj'  would  have  saved  the 
baiile  ot  ?Cew  Orleans,  also  that  of 
Toulouse,  500. 

Temple  of  Fame,  by  Pope,  its  ap- 
plication to  journalism,  44. 

Theatre,  old  prices  revealed  by 
Shakespeare,  373. 

Thomson  wrote  Castle  of  Indo- 
lence, to  show  the  curse  of  iudo- 
dence,  289— his  death,  128. 

Times,  London,  rise  and  decline,  326 
— £5,000  offered  for  a  file,  331. 

Tooth-ache  in  verse,  45. 

Tourists  in  America,  early,  586. 

Treaty,  the  first  national,  456. 

Tributes  to  genius,  varied  and  pecu- 
liar, 117. 

Trinity  churcn,  ita  two  centuries, 
598 — Anneke  Jans,  600 — its  history, 
graves,  GOl. 

Tryon  County  Committee,  its  inter- 
esting record,  194. 

Twice  mentioned  book,  171. 

Tyler  Royal,  writes  the  Algeriua 
"C.iptive,  185  — personal  sketch, 
382. 


XX 


Index. 


U. 

Unsuccessful  plays,  422. 
Unfiuisbcd   works,   extended  detail, 
48. 

V. 

Virgil's  efiEorts  for  fame,  136. 
Virginius  declined  by  John  Murray, 
■     27. 
Virginias    brought    by   Macready  to 

America,  378. 
Vitality  of  an  author,  its  proof,  56. 
Volcanic  outbursts  of  genius,  282. 
Voltaire   and  Goethe,   their  extreme 

age,  131. 

W. 

Walpole,  Horace,  his  Castle  of 
Otrauto,  40. 

Warner,  Susan  and  Anna,  personal 
sketch,  84. 

War  of  1^12,  the  war  vote  in  Con- 
gress, 513. 

Washington's  limited  education,  48.'> 
— his  farewell  address,  the  original 
MSS,,  4x5 — antagonism  to  htate 
suiiremacy,  480  —  Doyer  street  a 
memorial,  4S7  —  first  visits  New 
York,  48 — Mary  I'hillipse,  his  first 
love,  4'JO — marriage,  4'J2 — Byron's 
eulogy,  4',t3— K.  G.  White's  beau- 
tiful tribute,  404  — Washington's 
death,  4'.i5— the  funeral,  40'J— his 
namesakes,  401 — libelled,  4i'iS — liis 
high  temper,  471 — his  sympathy, 
473  —  his  biographers,  475  —  his 
monument  ar.d  its  origin,  4^0 — his 
life  in  New  York,  4'^'2 — his  portraits, 
4s2 — his  inauguration,  459. 

Washington  city,  projected,  461. 

Wealth  and  authorship,  40. 


Webster,  Daniel,  satirised  by  Whit- 
tier  in  Ichabod,  68. 

Webster,  Noah,  good  example  to  lit- 
erary men,  28  —  edits  American 
Magazine,  00. 

Weems'  Life  of  Washington,  476. 

Wellington,  lessou  to  public  men, 
581. 

Weld,  the  British  traveler,  makes  a 
tour  in  America,  5^0  —  describes 
General  Washington, 587 — his  opin- 
ion of  New  York,   588. 

Whittier's  suppressed  poem,  69 — his 
great  satire,  66 — hia  tribute  to  L. 
E.  L..  70. 

White,  H.  K.,  Byron's  tribute  to,  117. 

Wilkins,  Peter,  and  the  Flying  Islan- 
ders,  115. 

Wilkins,  Bishop,  his  voyage  to  the 
moon,  115. 

Williams,  Helen  Maria,  translates 
Paul  and  Virginia,  158. 

Woodfall's  offer  to  divide  profits  with 
Junius,  46. 

Wordsworth  ])ublishcs  Peter  Hell 
anonymously,  114 — his  suppressed 
tragedy,  Is.s'. 

Wciman's  discernment,  18. 

Women  of  letters,  194. 

Y. 

Young  Roscius,  his  success,  383 — and 

decline,  385. 
Youtii,  an  injudicious  plea  in  authors, 

25 — Byrou  and  other  instances,  25. 


Zeluco,  a  strange  story,  42. 

Zeuger,  Peter,  sued   for  slander,  the 

first  action  of  the  kind  in  America, 

324. 


APPENDIX. 

The  Foroeu  Letters  of   Washington.     A  mystery   to    Washington,  but 
traced  by  the  author  to  James  Rivington,  647. 


PRESS  NOTICES  OF  FIRST  EDITION. 


This  book  is  a  fine  collection  of  literary  miscellany  —  how  books 
have  been  written  and  published,  popular  pen  pictures  of  noted 
authors,  curious  facts  from  the  literary  world.  One  cannot  turn 
a  page  without  finding  facts  of  value,  and  all  told  in  a  most  off- 
hand and  entertaining  way. —  [Chicago  Inter-Ocean. 

Is  just  brimming  with  literary  information  of  every  conceivable 
kind.  *  *  *  The  book  contains  upwards  of  three  hundred 
essays  and  sketches  by  Mr.  Frothingham,  collected  from  various 
publications  and  dealing  with  almost  every  topic.  *  *  * 
There  are  many  bits  of  information  to  be  gleaned  from  this  book 
that  would  be  an  inroad  on  time  and  a  trial  to  patience  to  collect 
elsewhere. —  [Boston  Post. 

A  fascinating  volume,  full  of  all  manner  of  curious  things. — 
[Rochester  Democrat  and  Chronicle. 

A  strange  history  attaches  to  this  volume.  Mr.  Frothingham 
has  long  been  a  writer  of  letters  on  topics  chiefly  literary.  Charle- 
magne Tower,  a  Pennsylvania  millionaire,  whom  Mr.  Frothing- 
ham had  never  seen,  wrote  expressing  admiration  of  the  letters 
and  offering  to  defray  the  expense  of  republication  in  book  form. 
A  volume  of  more  than  six  hundred  pages  is  the  result,  but  Mr. 
Tower  did  not  live  to  see  it,  having  died  too  soon.  Fine  steel 
plate  engravings  of  the  author  and  Mr.  Tower  face  each  other, 
and  the  pronoun  in  the  title  is  used  in  recognition  of  Mr.  Tower's 
share  in  the  work  of  producing  the  book. —  [New  York  Herald. 

There  is  not  a  chapter  which  does  not  afford  entertainment  and 
instruction. —  [Philadelphia  Evening  Bulletin. 

This  book  covers  the  field  of  literature  and  kindred  subjects, 
and  many  of  the  articles  are  brilliantly  written.  The  book  is 
copiously  illustrated  and  will  be  found  of  interest. —  [New  Haven 
Palladium. 

It  contains  pen  pictures  of  popular  authors,  together  with  curi- 
ous facts  in  literature  and  a  wide  survey  of  the  world  of  brainy 
thinkers.  The  crisp  and  racy  style  in  which  the  book  is  written 
renders  the  work  one  of  ffreat  value. —  [Baltimore  American, 


xxii  Press  notices  of  first  Edition. 

The  history  of  the  work  is  one  of  the  curiosities  of  literature. 
Our  Book  is  the  cream  of  a  quarter  century  of  journalism.  Dur- 
ing this  period  the  author  has  beeu  investigating  ahnost  every 
subject  that  conies  within  the  higiier  scope  of  his  profession,  and 
the  present  work  is  tlie  result.  The  volume  is  beautifully  printed 
and  bound. —  [St.  Louis  Republic. 

This  work  presents  pen  pictures  of  popular  authors,  together 
witli  curious  facts  in  literature.  "Journalism"  ))ortrays  tlie 
struggles  of  the  profession  from  Franklin  to  Greeley,  and  sketches 
the  former  giants  of  Printing  House  Squaie.  "The  Drama" 
shows  the  development  of  the  histrionic  art  as  illustrated  by  Gar- 
rick,  Kemble  and  others,  and  a  third,  describes  the  political  lead- 
ers of  former  times. —  [.Milwaukee  Sentinel. 

The  book  presents  much  condensed  and  curious  information. 

*  *  *  It  might  serve  as  a  book  of  reference  for  items  of  inter- 
est about  almost  any  man  of  prominence  in  the  classes  mentioned. 

*  *  *  The  subjects  are  as  various  as  the  size  of  the  chapters. 
They  cover  a  wide  field  —  interesting  and  instructive  facts  — 
al)out  authors,  actors  and  statesmen  of  all  ages  and  countries; 
something  about  book-making,  libraries,  monuments  and  Aaron 
Burr's  love  affairs. —  [New  York  Epoch. 

The  author  has  been  a  great  reader  of  many  kinds  of  books, 
chiefly  of  biographies  and  memoirs  of  authors,  great  and  small, 
poets,  playwnglits,  novelists,  essayists,  has  read  largely  and  in 
many  directions,  and  he  has  written  largely  also.  "Our  Book" 
covers  a  great  deal  of  ground. —  [New  York  Mail  and  Express. 

"Our  Book."  Tlie  author  has  a  happy  faculty  of  grouping 
facts  of  personal  interest,  and  his  book  contains  a  great  fund  of 
information.  Tlie  many  curious  facts  given  could  only  have  been 
obtained  by  an  immense  range  of  reading,  practical  and  earnest, 
and  from  the  observation  of  leading  men  and  events  in  a  large 
city.  The  candor  of  these  sketches  is  another  pleasing  character- 
istic— [Cincinnati  Enquirer. 

"  Our  Book  "  is  the  title  of  a  collection  of  rare  bits  of  literature, 
history  and  ])ersonal  reminiscences  in  the  fields  of  literature,  jour- 
nalism, the  drama  and  history.  Here  are  curious  facts  in  litera- 
ture, and  a  wide  survey  of  the  world  of  brain-workers.  The  work 
embraces  646  pages,  each  closely  condensed  and  illustrated  by  por- 
traits, both  on  wood  and  steel.  Upon  the  whole,  "  Our  Book"  is 
one  the  most  unique  volumes  that  has  appeared  in  many  a  year. 
Its  crisp  and  racy  style  renders  its  world  of  information  still  more 
attractive. —  [Kansas  City  Times. 


Our  Bool^. 


GENIUS   AND    BEAUTY. 

It  is  an  admitted  fact  that  genius  and  beauty  are  rarely 
found  in  the  same  person.  The  handsomest  man  of  Lon- 
don society  in  the  opening  of  the  present  century  was 
Count  Dorsay,  but  he  was  in  every  other  point  very 
inferior.  Welhngton,  the  chief  soldier  of  his  age,  was 
impaired  by  his  prodigious  nose,  and  both  Rogers  and 
Southey,  as  well  as  Henry  Kirke  White,  suffered  from 
the  same  excess.  Pope  was  partially  deformed,  and  not- 
withstanding his  fine  eyes  was  a  facile  object  for  the 
caricaturist.  Hence  he  speaks  of  "the  libelled  person 
and  distorted  shape."  Another  reference  to  his  personal 
defects  is  as  follows : 

"  There  are  who  to  my  person  -pay  their  court, 
I  cough  like  Horace,  and  though  lean,  am  short. 
Amnion's  great  son  one  shoulder  had  too  high; 
Such  Ovid's  nose  —  and  sir,  you  have  an  eye. 
Go  on,  obliging  creatures  —  bid  me  see 
All  that  disgraced  my  betters  met  in  me." 

Goldsmith  was  hardly  of  passable  appearance,  and  John- 
son was  huge  and  clumsy.  Gibbon  was  corpulent  and  suf- 
fered from  a  ruptnre  which  still  more  impaired  his  form. 
Burke  was  awkward  and  ungraceful,  and  John  Wilkes, 
the  so-called  champion  of  liberty,  was  the  worst  looking 
jnan  in  England.  What  an  ill-looking  set  the  famous 
Literary  Club  must  have  been. 
1 


2  Our  Book. 

Byron  had  a  tine  face,  but  his  club  foot  was  a  per- 
petnal  humiliation,  and  the  consciousness  of  this  defect 
seemed  never  to  abate.  This  is  illustrated  by  the  follow- 
ing incident :  One  night  as  Byron  and  some  friends  left 
the  theatre,  one  of  the  "  link  boys  "  volunteered  to  illu- 
minate the  way,  expecting  the  usual  fee.  "  This  way, 
my  lord,"  exclaimed  the  light  bearer,  uttering  the  title 
at  random.  "  IIuw  does  he  know  you  are  a  lord?  "  asked 
one  of  the  friends.  "Know  me,"  exclaimed  the  poet, 
"why  they  all  know  me;  I'm  deformed."  Walter  Scott 
was  a  man  of  fine  ])ersonal  ap])earance,  hut  he  too  was 
lame  —  having  been  injured  in  infancy  —  and  walked 
with  a  peculiar  limp.  Wlien  Lady  Blessington  first  met 
him  she  exclaimed,  "Why,  sir,  have  you  got  hurt?" 
"  Yes,"  was  the  reply,  "  about  fifty  years  ago." 

Campbell,  the  author  of  Pleasures  of  Hope,  though  a 
small  man,  was  considered  handsome,  but  his  life  was  a 
faihii-u  and  its  miseries  afTord  a  painful  contrast  with  his 
pretty  face.  It  is  pi'ol)able  that  Burns  was  the  noblest 
specimen  of  maidy  beauty  that  British  authorship  ever 
produced.  Walter  Scott,  w^ho  saw  him  in  his  prime, 
said  that  "  his  eyes  literally  glowed,"  and  added  that  hav- 
ing seen  most  of  the  distinguished  men  of  that  age,  none 
of  them  had  such  eyes  as  Burns.  Bulwcr  was  considered 
a  handsome  man,  and  so  was  Lockhart,  but  on  the  other 
hand  Chai-les  Lamb,  Wordsworth,  Shelley,  and  most  of 
the  literati  of  that  day  were  of  very  i)lain  appearance. 

Coleridge  had  large,  expressive  eyes,  but  this  was 
all  that  was  noticeable  on  his  countenance,  and  Dickens 
retained  till  the  last  that  cockney  aspect  which  was  the 
more  apparent  from  his  excessive  display  of  jewelry. 
Moore  was  the  smallest  poet  —  in  point  of  stature  —  in 
the  entire  Parnassian  list,  and  he  would  have  given  half 
his  beauty  for  six  inches  of  height. 


Amekican  Genius.  3 

The  pigmy  of  literature,  however,  was  M.  G.  Lewis, 
compiler  of  Tales  of  Wonder,  a  now  forgotten  book. 
Viewed  from  behind,  he  was  often  taken  for  a  half-grown 
boy,  and  yet  this  little  fellow  had  influence  in  hterary 
circles.  His  specialty  was  the  weird  and  the  horrible, 
and  he  induced  Scott  to  write  a  number  of  harrowing 
ballads  for  the  Tales  of  Wonder,  He  thus  really  started 
Scott  into  authorship,  for  after  the  latter  had  written 
Glenfinlas  and  the  Ev^e  of  St.  John,  the  way  was  open 
for  higher  effort.  They  appeared  in  Tales  of  Wonder, 
and  in  this  manner  the  pigmy  led  forth  the  giant. 


AMERICAN   GENIUS. 

In  earlier  days  American  genius  was  more  favored  in 
point  of  personal  appearance  than  that  of  the  old  world. 
In  military  life  there  were  Washington  and  Winfield 
Scott,  who  were  the  finest  looking  men  of  tlieir  day.  In 
orators,  both  Daniel  Webster  and  Edward  Everett  may 
be  mentioned  —  both  having  been  not  only  men  of  elo- 
quence but  also  of  remarkably  fine  personal  appearance, 
while  in  literature  there  were  Cooper,  Irving  and  Bayard 
Taylor.  Irving  in  his  latter  day  was  often  solicited  to  sit 
for  his  portrait,  but  he  uniforml}^  referred  to  the  picture 
taken  by  Leslie  and  the  bust  by  Ball  Hughes.  The 
former  is  in  the  Lenox  gallery,  and  is  of  such  small  size 
that  it  is  generally  overlooked ;  but  it  is  a  gem  of  art 
and  is  a  correct  picture  of  the  author  when  in  the  fulness 
of  manly  beauty.  ^  The  bust  is  in  the  Mercantile  library, 
and,  though  of  maturer  years,  is  also  a  fine  specimen  of 
manhood.  In  point  of  personal  appearance  indeed,  Irv- 
ing held  high  distinction.  He  stood  five  feet  ten  and 
was  well  built,  and   then  his  countenance  had  a  genial 


4  Our  Book. 

as  well  as  an  intellectual  expression,  which,  iiulced,  was 
the  best  exponent  of  his  character. 

N.  P.  "WilHs  always  looked  as  though  he  had  just  step- 
ped out  of  a  bandbox.  Ho  was  of  light  build  and  stood 
about  five  feet  nine.  He  dressed  in  the  best  taste  and 
his  appearance  in  tlie  Broadway  afternoon  promenade  was 
so  ]>retty  that  he  was  a  great  favorite  with  the  ladies. 
His  partner,  George  P.  Morris,  who  once  was  so  popular 
as  a  song  writer,  was  a  phort,  stout  man,  with  a  dull 
countenance,  which  would  hardly  suggest  "  Woodman 
Spare  that  Tree.''  Poe  was  of  rather  undersize  and 
dressed  in  good  taste  for  one  so  wretchedly  poor.  His 
face  had  a  sad,  dreamy,  intellectual  look,  which  would  at 
once  rivet  attention. 

Longfellow  was  not  of  poetic  countenance.  Before 
he  became  gray  he  was  a  blonde  and  the  most  strik- 
ing feature  was  his  nose,  which  was  altogether  too  prom- 
inent for  beauty.  When  I  first  saw  him  his  face  was 
clean-shaven,  and  this  rendered  the  nasal  organ  the  more 
conspicuous.  I  think  that  he  afterward  wore  full  beard  and 
moustache  in  order  to  give  the  rest  of  his  face  more  full- 
ness and  thus  reduce  the  nose  to  reasonable  proportions. 

Bayard  Taylor  was  a  man  of  very  line  personal  appear- 
ance. He  was  tall  and  well-shaped,  and  his  countenance 
was  marked  by  power.  He  too  had  a  prominent  nose, 
but  it  was  one  which  gave  dignity  and  strength  to  his 
face.  Edward  Everett  was  also  a  man  of  unusually  fine 
appearance,  and  this  added  mucli  to  his  admirable  oratory. 

James  Fenimore  Cooper,  however,  bore  the  palm  among 
the  literati  of  America.  He  was  the  beau  ideal  of  physi- 
cal development,  combined  with  intellect.  The  former, 
however,  was  most  conspicuous.  He  was  six  feet  and 
finely  proportioned.  His  movements  were  easy  and  had 
that  air  which  belongs  to  the  naval  service  in  which  he 


N.    P.    WILLIS, 


J.  FENNIMOKE  COOPEK. 


Literary  Marriages.  6 

passed  his  early  years.  His  head  was  large,  and  his 
features  were  of  a  leonine  cast,  while  his  clear,  gray  eyes 
were  radiant  with  power.  He  was  one  of  that  class  of 
authors  whose  personal  appearance  was  superior  to  their 
writings.  I  saw  him  once  plead  in  court,  the  case  being 
one  of  his  libel  suits,  and  the  impression  became  at  once 
indelible.  Those  libel  suits  (like  libel  suits  in  general) 
were  a  great  blunder,  but  they  certainly  developed  a  sur- 
prising gift  of  eloquence-  Cooper,  indeed,  was  the  only 
American  author  whose  oratory  excelled  his  books. 

Hawthorne  was  well  built  and  had  an  abstract  dreamy 
look  which  suggested  his  mysterious  cliaracter.  Halleck 
and  Bryant,  though  diminutive  in  stature,  were  dignified 
in  countenance.  This  reference  to  Bryant  leads  to  the 
remark  that  some  of  our  leading  editors  were  noted  for 
ungaiidy  appearance.  Greeley,  though  well  shaped,  was 
awkward  in  manner,  and  in  his  early  days  had  a  verdant 
look.'  Bennett  was  huge  and  clumsy  with  repulsive  fea- 
tures, while  Raymond  had  a  powerful  but  an  unattractive 
face  and  his  deficiency  in  stature  surprised  those  who  felt 
the  power  of  his  pen,  M.  M.  i^oah  was  tall  and  un- 
graceful and  the  same  statement  applied  to  David  Hale, 
founder  of  the  Journal  of  Commerce,  but  he  had  unusually 
fine  eyes  and  a  face  of  great  power. 


LITERARY  MARRIAGES. 

It  has  been  questioned  whether  such  unions  can  be 
advantageously  formed,  but  I  think  that  experience  is 
in  the  afiirmative.  Progressive  education  is  necessary, 
and  the  one  having  the  best  attainments  will  of  course 
be  the  educator.      Woman  is  generally  ready  to  learn, 


6  Our  Boo«. 

while  a  man,  from  tlie  affected  importance  of  the  sex, 
often  objects  to  receiving  lessons  from  his  wife.  This, 
however,  is  a  great  mistake.  Another  error  on  the  part 
of  literary  men  (including  the  clergy)  is  the  expectation 
of  conjugal  praise.  Clergymen  are  generally  pleased  with 
flattery,  and  as  long  as  the  wife  administers  it  her  words 
are  acceptable,  while  judicious  criticism  is  imj)alatal)lo.  To 
illustrate  the  benefit  of  the  latter,  I  may  refer  to  such  a 
man  as  Scott,  the  commentator,  who  habitually  road  his 
sermons  to  his  wife  before  pulpit  delivery,  and  found  her 
suggestions  very  valuable. 

Literary  people  arc  more  liable  to  matrimonial  diflScul- 
ties  than  most  other  classes,  because  they  so  rapidly  ex- 
haust one  another.  A  literary  man  who  is  obliged  by  his 
profession  to  advance  in  knowledge  will  soon  reach  a 
higher  plane  than  that  occupied  on  the  Avcdding  day,  and 
will  of  course  leave  his  wife  behind  unless  she  maintain  a 
proportionate  advance.  Here  will  be  found  an  increasing 
separation  of  thought  and  culture  such  as  never  could 
occur  under  other  circumstances.  Hence  the  M'ife  of  a  lit- 
terateur  may  become  merely  his  housekeeper  instead  of  a 
companion. 

By  the  same  rule  we  may  notice  the  unsuitableness  of 
a  woman,  strictly  literary  in  taste,  marrying  an  illiterate 
man.  "We  have  a  number  of  female  writers  who  have 
attained  rank  in  the  world  of  letters,  but  are  married  to 
men  whose  only  distinction  is  found  in  their  wives.  The 
latter  pursue  a  path  which  leads  to  mental  culture,  while 
the  former  are  engrossed  with  business.  The  woman 
finds  that  her  husband  does  not  equal  her  progress  and  he 
soon  ceases  to  be  a  real  companion.  She  must  pursue  a 
solitary  path  or  find  congenial  society  elsewhere.  Sad 
illustrations  of  this  are  found  in  Mrs.  Hemans  and  Mad- 
ame De  Stael,  but  American  society  has  enough  examples 
without  seekinir  them  abroad. 


Literary  Marriages.  t 

The  best  read  man  of  his  day  was  Robert  Soutbey,  and 
he  was  one  of  its  most  versatile  writers.  He  was  a  toler- 
able poet  and  a  popular  biographer,  as  well  as  a  frequent  re- 
viewer, and  though  not  profound,  was  laborious  and  learned. 
He  lived  at  Keswick,  and  his  studies  were  prosecuted  in 
his  own  house.  Here  he  had  a  congenial  companion  in  his 
wife,  whose  health  afterward  failed,  but  he  cherished  her 
to  the  very  last.     As  he  said  in  a  letter  to  his  publisher: 

I  have  declined  joining  a  literary  club  to  which  I  have  been 
elected.  Surely  a  man  does  not  do  his  duty  who  leaves  his  wife 
to  evenings  of  solitude,  and  I  feel  duty  and  happiness  to  be 
inseparable.  I  am  happier  at  home  than  any  otiier  society  can 
possibly  make  me.  With  Edith,  I  am  alike  secure  from  the  weari- 
ness of  solitude  and  the  disgust  which  I  cannot  help  feeling  at 
the  contemplation  of  mankind. 

Edith  eventually  sank  beneath  slow  disease,  and  her 
husband  at  last  surrendered  her  to  the  grave.  After  her 
death  he  married  Caroline  Lisle  Bowles,  who  had  won 
position  as  a  popular  writer.  She  lived  to  see  the  labor- 
ous  literateur  suffer  intellectual  paralysis,  and  watched 
over  him  after  he  had  become  reduced  almost  to  second 
childhood,  which  occurred  a  few  years  before  his  death. 

Turning  to  public  life,  it  is  a  matter  of  note  that  many 
of  our  best  statesmen  were  very  happily  married.  Jeffer- 
son lost  his  wife  before  she  had  pat^scd  middle  life,  but 
their  union  was  of  a  very  happy  character.  It  was, 
however,  onl}'^  of  ten  years'  duration.  After  his  death, 
which  was  forty  years  subsequently,  there  was  found  in 
his  drawer  a  parcel  inscribed,  "  A  lock  of  our  first  Lucy's 
hair,  with  some  of  my  dear  wife's  writing."  The  mem- 
ory of  tliat  wife  was  cherished  to  the  very  last. 

John  Adams  was  still  more  fortunate.  He  married 
Abigal  Smith,  the  daughter  of  a  clergyman,  and  their 
letters  prove  their  union  to  have  been  one  of  intellect 
as  well  as  one  of  affection.     Madison  also  married  one 


8  Our  Book. 

who  was  in  evcr}^  point  adapted  to  tlie  position  which 
destiny  assigned  her.  The  value  of  woman  as  a  com- 
panion of  a  statesman  is  one  of  liic  lessons  taught  by 
Walter  Savage  Landor  in  his  Pericles  and  Aspasia,  and 
it  is  to  be  remembered  that  as  soon  as  Kapolcon  cast 
off  Josephine,  his  true  and  devoted  wife,  fortune  ceased 
to  favor  him,  and  he  went  rapidly  to  ruin. 

Literary  Bachelors. 

I  might  continue  this  subject  long  enough  to  fill  a  vol- 
ume without  exhausting  it,  but  before  I  go  any  f^irther  I 
may  be  met  by  the  inquiry  why  are  men  of  genius  so 
often  bachelors?  To  this  I  reply  that  such  instances  are 
not  owing  to  any  thing  like  a  want  of  appreciation  of 
woman's  value,  but  generally  to  unfavorable  circum- 
stances. Most  of  our  celibate  authors  have  been  in  love, 
but  found  that  its  course  did  not  run  smooth.  Irving, 
for  instance,  was  engaged  to  a  maiden  whom  he  lost  by 
death.  Charles  Lamb  remained  unmarried  in  order  to 
devote  himself  to  his  lunatic  sister  Mary,  whom  he  kept 
as  an  inmate  of  his  house  until  her  death.  Lord  Macau- 
lay  never  married,  but  it  is  j^robable  that  this  was  due  to 
some  youthful  disappointment.     lie  might  have  had 

"A  love  Ihnt  had  an  early  root, 

And  early  had  a  doom ; 
Like  trees  that  never  come  to  fruit, 

But  perisli^Q  their  bloom." 

Goldsmith  was  deeply  in  love  with  the  charming  Miss 
Ilorneck,  whom  he  styled  "  the  Jessamine  bride,"  and 
even  Pope,  though  a  life-long  invalid,  expressed  his  ad- 
miration of  Martha  P)lount,  but  neither  of  these  men 
married.  The  one  was  prevented  by  poverty  —  the  ether 
by  ill  health.  Hume  seems  almost  the  only  distinguished 
writer  who  was  formed  for  celibacy.  He  was  naturally 
cold  and  apathetic,  and  indeed  any  one  who  could  defend 


Literary  Marriages.  9 

suicide  by  such  ingenious  sophistry,  was  unfit  for  social 
hfe. 

Gibbon,  when  a  student,  ^raa  in  love  with  Mademoiselle 
Churchod,  the  daughter  of  a  poor  clergyman.  His  father 
opposed  the  union,  and  the  love-lorn  student  resigned  his 
hopes  of  matrimonial  bliss.  The  girl  was  talented  and 
became  a  teacher,  and  afterward  married  the  richest  man 
in  France,  and  was  the  mother  of  Madame  De  Stael.  She 
entertained  her  former  lover  at  her  palace  twenty  years 
after  the  match  liad  been  broken. 

To  return  to  American  authors,  I  am  reminded  that 
Percival  proposed,  but  was  refused.  Indeed,  he  was 
unfit  for  married  life  by  reason  of  his  peculiarities.  Hal- 
leck  became  deaf,  and  remained  single.  So  did  Tucker- 
man.  Confirmed  bachelors  are  very  rare  among  editors, 
physicians,  lawyers  and  clergy,  and  have  always  been  so. 

In  conclusion  it  is  very  evident  that  wedlock  has  been 
beneficial  to  American  literateurs  as  is  illustrated  by 
the  lives  of  Hawthorne,  Cooper,  Longfellow  and  othei'S 
who  might  be  mentioned.  Literary  life  indeed  will  never 
become  so  celestial  that  authors  will  cease  to  marry  and 
be  given  in  marriage,  and  if  any  one  needs  the  richest 
blessings  of  domestic  affection  it  is  this  class  of  so  often 
over-tasked  brain  workers. 

Most  of  the  leading  authors  in  Great  Britain  were 
married  —  some  unliappily,  the  most  recent  case  being 
that  of  Dickens.  Such  difficulties  indeed  have  too  often 
marred  the  history  of  genius  as  is  found  in  Shelley, 
Byron  and  Coleridge.  The  first  of  this  wonderful  trio 
ran  a  rapid  career.  Before  he  was  twenty-nine  he  had 
married  twice,  had  abandoned  his  first  wife  who  com- 
mitted suicide,  had  acliieved  fame  and  reached  a  grave  in 
the  English  burial  ground  at  Rome.  Byron  was  unfit  to 
marry  because  of  intense  selfishness  and  lawless  appetite. 
2 


%0  Ode  Book. 

Coleridge  loved  Lis  wife,  but  was  so  addicted  to  opium 
that  he  was  unfit  for  domestic  life,  and  this  led  to  a  per- 
manent separation.  Bulwer's  domestic  troubles  were 
among  the  most  painful  of  this  character,  especially  since 
he  incarcerated  his  wife  in  a  lunatic  asylum  as  the  most 
ellectual  way  of  escaping  matrimonial  incumbrance. 
Tom  Moore  married  a  young  actress  whom  he  loved 
intensely,  and  who  was  his  "  Bessie"  to  the  last.  The 
later  circle  of  poets,  such  as  Thomas  Hood,  Proctor,  bet- 
ter known  as  Barry  Cornwall,  and  Ebenezer  Elliot,  were 
married  men,  and  lived  in  a  manner  which  commends 
home  life  to  other  literateurs.  Hugh  Miller  courted  with 
poetry  and  stone  cutting  in  alternate  exercise,  and  his 
"  winsome  marrow  "  delighted  to  read  to  him  while  he 
wore  the  mechanic's  apron  and  plied  his  chisel  and  mallet. 

Scott's  Love  Matters. 

Scott's  early  disappointment  was  very  bitter,  and  al- 
though its  full  details  cannot  be  given  it  may  be  said  tliat 
when  he  was  a  poor  barrister,  living  under  the  paternal 
roof  he  fell  in  love  with  a  maiden  whose  rank  was  above 
his  own,  and  whom  he  could  not  expect  to  win. 

Still  he  hoped  against  hope.  His  father  heard  of  the 
affair,  and  w^ith  the  sober  sense  of  inature  years,  informed 
the  lady's  parents  of  Walter's  weakness,  and  they  at  once 
sent  her  on  a  protracted  visit  to  distant  friends. 

Scott  never  knew  the  cause  of  her  absence  till  years 
afterward,  but  he  submitted  to  his  fate,  for  as  the  income 
of  his  profession  during  the  first  five  years  averaged  only 
£100  a  year,  he  could  not  dare  encounter  the  expense  of 
a  domestic  establishment.  The  girl  married  soon  after- 
ward, and  one  of  Scott's  friends  was  so  deeply  interested 
and  even  alarmed  concerning  the  result  that  he  wrote  as 
follows:  "  This  is  bad  news  to  our  romantic  friend,  and  I 


Literary  Marriages.  11 

now  slindder  at  the  violence  of  his  most  irritable  and  un- 
governable mind.  It  is  said  that  '  men  have  died  and 
worms  have  eaten  them,  but  not  for  love.'  I  sincerely 
hope  it  may  bo  verified  on  this  occasion." 

Scott  did  nothing  worse  than  to  pen  a  few  stanzas, 
which  are  worth  reading  in  this  connection.  They  are 
addressed  to  a  violet  and  the  following  are  the  closing  lines : 

"Though  fair  her  gems  of  azure  hue, 

Beueath  the  dew-drops'  weight  reclining; 
I've  seen  an  eye  of  lovelier  blue, 

More  sweet  through  watery  lustre  shining." 

"The  summer  sun  tliat  dew  shall  dry, 

E'er  yet  that  sun  be  passed  its  morrow; 
Nor  longer  in  my  false  love's  eye. 

Remained  the  tear  of  parting  sorrow.'' 

The  maiden  thus  referred  to  was  the  only  daughter  of 
Sir  John  Stewart.  She  married  Sir  William  Forbes,  the 
opulent  Edinburgh  banker,  and  died  in  1811,  but  she  had 
lived  long  enough  to  see  her  former  lover  the  author  of 
Marmion  and  the  Lady  of  the  Lake,  which  rendered  Iiim 
the  chief  poet  of  the  age.  The  year  after  her  death  he 
introduces  her  and  also  himself  in  Rokeby,  and  it  is 
creditable  to  him  that  much  as  he  had  evidently  craved 
to  give  utterance  to  his  feelings  he  suppressed  them  until 
the  one  whose  memory  might  have  been  deepest  moved 
had  passed  away.  She  is  the  Matilda  in  Rokeby  who  re- 
jects the  young  poet  Wilfred  in  favor  of  the  warrior 
chief,  and  Scott  thus  describes  his  hopeless  passion : 

"  Wilfred  must  love  and  woo  the  bright 
Matilda  heir  of  Rokeby's  knigiit: 
To  love  her  was  an  easy  test 
The  secret  empress  of  his  breast. 
To  woo  her  was  a  harder  task, 
To  one  tliat  durst  not  hope  or  ask." 

The  same  idea  of  hopeless  love  and  bligliting  disap- 
pointment breathes  through  Wilfred's  song  of  which  I 
give  the  first  and  last  verses : 


12  Our  Book. 

"  0  Lady  twine  no  wreatli  for  me, 
Or  twine  it  of  the  cypress  tree: 
Too  lively  glows  the  lilies  light, 
The  varnished  holly's  all  too  bright; 
Q'he  Mayflower  and  the  Eglantine, 
May  shade  a  brow  less  sad  than  mine. 
Then  lady  weave  no  wreath  for  me 
Or  weave  it  of  the  cypress  tree.'' 


"Yes!  twine  for  me  the  cypress  bough 
But  O  Matilda  twine  not  now : 
Stay  till  a  few  brief  months  are  passed, 
And  I  have  looked  and  loved  the  last. 
When  villagers  my  grave  bestrew, 
With  pansies,  rosemary  and  rue, 
Then  lady  weave  a  wreath  for  me, 
But  weave  it  of  the  cypress  tree." 

It  is  an  interesting  feature  in  Scott's  history  that  the 
husband  of  his  first  love  was  his  chief  creditor  during 
his  bankruptcy,  and  no  doubt  fellow  feeling  did  much 
toward  that  leniency  which  the  unfortunate  author  re- 
ceived. Sir  William  Forbes  and  Sir  Walter  Scott  were 
then  both  widowers  and  from  the  grave  itself  arose  a  bond 
of  sympathy.  Ilcr  death  was  deeply  felt  by  Scott,  for 
although  he  had  been  married  twelve  years  the  old  flame 
w^as  not  extinguished.  Rokeby  appeared  tlie  next  year, 
and  Ix)ckliart  says  "  that  there  is  nothing  wrought  out 
in  all  Scott's  prose  more  exquisite  tlian  the  contrast 
between  the  rivals."  Six  years  afterward  Scott  wrote 
thus  to  Miss  Edgeworth :  "  Matilda  was  attempted  for 
the  person  of  a  lady  who  is  now  no  more,  so  that  I  am 
flattered  with  your  distinguishing  it."  As  this  took  place 
nearly  twenty  years  after  the  disappointinent,  it  ilhistratcs 
the  tenacity  with  which  the  author  held  to  his  first  love. 

,  Mutual  Sorrow. 

When  Lady  Forbes  died  Scott  was  so  affected  that  he 
called  on  her  mother  and  they  both  fell  to  weeping  over 
the  sad  affair.     It  is  a  cin-ious  incident  in  domestic  history 


Literary  Marriages.  13 

to  see  a  man  carry  his  first  love  so  tenderly  throiigh  life, 
while  married  to  anotlier  woman  to  whom  he  always 
showed  great  attachment.  Scott  evidently  made  Matilda 
the  ideal  or  dream  wife  who  accompanied  him  to  the  last. 
During  his  latter  days  he  said  by  w^ay  of  consolation  to  a 
young  lover  who  had  suffered  a  similar  disappointment, 
that  "scarce  one  person  out  of  twenty  marries  his  first 
love,  and  scarce  one  out  of  twenty  of  the  remainder  has 
cause  to  rejoice  at  having  done  so.  What  we  love  in  these 
early  days  is  rather  a  fanciful  creation  of  our  own  than  a  re- 
ality. We  build  statues  of  snow  and  weep  when  they  melt." 
Ten  years  previous  to  his  death  Scott  copied  some 
verses  written  by  his  early  love.  "  I  leave  it,"  says  Lock- 
hart,  "  to  the  reader's  fancy  to  picture  the  mood  in  which 
the  gray-haired  man  may  have  traced  such  a  relic  of  his 
youthful  dreams."  Twenty-six  years  aft*  r  this  disap- 
pointment Scott  wrote  Peveril  of  the  Peak,  in  which 
he  draws  on  his  own  experience  for  the  remark  that 
"  there  are  few  men  who  do  not  look  back  in  secret  to 
some  period  of  their  life  at  which  a  sincere  or  early 
affection  was  repulsed  or  betrayed." 

Ills  Wife. 

A  few  3'ears  after  liis  disappointment  Scott  met  a 
beautiful  French  girl,  an  orphan  and  heiress  of  £4,000. 
She  Avas  known  as  Charlotte  Margaret  Carpenter,  and 
w^as  the  daughter  of  Jean  Carjicnter  —  or  Charpentier  — 
a  royalist  who  fled  at  the  outbreak  of  the  revolution.  In 
this  courtship  Scott  was  more  moderate  than  in  the  first, 
and  writes  to  his  mother  of  his  "  anxiety  lest  you  should 
think  me  flighty  or  inconsiderate,"  and  adds  "that  experi- 
ence is  too  recent  to  permit  my  being  so  hasty  in  my  con- 
clusions as  the  warmth  of  my  temper  might  have  other- 
wise prompted."     It  is  generally  admitted  that  Scott  was 


14  Our  Book. 

not  well  mated  in  the  marriage  which  followed.  His 
wife,  who  by  her  husband's  baronetcy  became  Lady  Scott, 
was  deficient  in  intellect  and  her  weaknesses  often  dis- 
tressed her  husband,  especially  as  they  were  so  generally 
the  theme  of  literary  and  social  gossip.  On  one  occasion 
when  Jeffrey  dined  at  his  house  after  issuing  a  sevei-e 
critique  on  Marmion,  to  which  Scott,  of  course,  made  no 
reference,  the  wife  said  to  the  guest  when  he  departed, 
"  Well,  good-night  Mr.  Jeffrey,  dey  tell  me  you  have 
abused  Scott  in  de  Review,  and  I  hope  Mr.  Constable 
has  paid  you  well  for  writing  it."  This  outburst  of  feel- 
ing annoyed  Scott  deeply,  especially  as  soon  afterward  it 
became  a  matter  of  humorous  and  satirical  comment. 

South ey's  Method. 

The  method  which  Robert  Southey  pursued  is  worthy 
of  notice.  He  was  in  love  with  Edith  Fricker,  a  girl  as 
poor  as  himself,  and  was  obliged  to  leave  England  for 
Portugal  for  the  purpose  of  improving  his  fortunes. 
Just  before  the  vessel  sailed  ho  married  Edith  and  his 
maiden  bride  bade  him  a  sad  farewell  at  the  wharf,  and 
went  home  wearing  her  wedding  ring  as  the  only  memento 
of  the  occasion.  Southey  desired  to  send  her  money,  and 
knew  that  she  would  not  accept  it  from  one  not  legally 
her  husband.  This  strange  wedding  was  the  beginning 
of  a  union  marked  by  a  more  than  usual  degree  of  felicity. 
Upon  the  whole,  it  seems,  as  Shakespeare  says,  that 
"  marriage  and  hanging  go  by  destiny."  It  is,  of 
course,  very  trying  to  be  disappointed  in  love ;  as  Orlando 
says,  "  O  how  bitter  a  thing  it  is  to  look  into  happiness 
through  another  man's  eyes,"  but  it  is  an  experience  often 
met  in  the  history  of  genius. 

Campbell  married  his  cousin  and  their  children  were 
deficient,  one  of  the  number  becoming  a  lunatic  early  in 


Literary  Marriages.  15 

life.  The  poet,  indeed,  seems  to  have  seen  much  sorrow, 
and  though  he  was  the  bard  of  liope  he  was  through  life 
the  victim  of  disappointment.  Burns'  experience  in  wed- 
lock was  all  that  could  be  expected  under  that  dire  pov- 
erty which  was  his  fate,  through  life.  Going  back  still 
further  in  the  literary  record,  Gray  died  a  bachelor  at 
fifty-five.  His  life  was  singularly  uniform  and  presents 
few  facts  on  which  to  base  an  opinion.  It  has  been  sup- 
posed, however,  that  he  was  disappointed  in  his  affections, 
indeed  one  of  the  most  powerful  lines  in  the  Elegy  seems 
to  have  been  an  utterance  of  his  heart : 

"Hard  by  yon  wood,  now  smiling  as  in  scorn, 
Muttering  his  wayward  fancies  he  would  rove, 
Nqw  drooping,  woful  Wiin,  like  one  forlorn, 
Or  crazed  with  care  or  crossed  in  hopeless  love." 

Cowper  was  deeply  in  love  with  his  cousin,  Theodora, 

but  as  he  was  really  unfit  for  matrimonial  life  his  friends 

interfered.     The  affection,    however,  which   united    this 

fond  couple  held  its  power  to  the  last,  and  neither  sought 

nor  found  another  mate. 

Addison  and  Milton. 

Addison  married  the  Countess  of  Warwick  and  the 
union  proved  uncongenial.  He  was  a  disappointed  man 
and  no  doubt  found  the  Spectator  a  consolation.  In  one 
of  its  essays  (No.  607)  he  says,  "  it  requires  more  virtues 
to  make  a  good  husband  or  wife  than  what  go  to  the 
finishing  of  the  most  shining  character  whatsoever."  No 
doubt  he  wrote  this  from  his  own  experience.  His 
matrimonial  infelicity  led  to  a  separation,  and  Pope  gave 
him  a  severe  hit  when  he  spoke  of 

"Marrying  discord  in  a  noble  wife." 
for  thouo:h  no  name  was  mentioned  the  reference  was  too 
clear  to  be  mistaken. 

Fielding  seems  to  have  been  the  best  mated  author  of 


16  Our  Book. 

that  (Jay.  His  wife  bore  with  his  irregularities  with  great 
patience,  and  he  has  enibahiied  her  in  the  lovely  Amelia. 
Swift  was  the  ogre  of  matrimony,  and  the  only  excuse 
for  his  horrible  treatment  of  the  woman  whom  he  un- 
willingly wedded  is  that  he  was  insane. 

It  may  seem  strange  that  Milton,  whose  married  life 
was  unhappy,  should  have  made  so  beautiful  a  reference 
to  the  subject  in  his  L' Allegro : 

"There  let  Hymen  oft  appear, 
In  saffron  robe  witli  taper  clear. 
And  pomp  and  feast  and  revelry, 
With  masque  and  antiijue  pageantry. 
Such  sights  as  youtliful  poets  dream 
On  summer  eve,  by  iiaunted  stream." 

It  may  be  replied  that  the  above  Mas  written  before  the 
author  reached  that  sad  experience  which  clouded  bis  do- 
mestic life.  It  is  evident,  however,  that  the  latter  inspired 
that  prophetic  view  which  Adam  utters  in  Paradise  Lost, 
and  which  so  jminf  ully  portrays  some  of  the  infelicities  of 
married  life 

''For  cither 
He  shall  never  find  out  fit  mate,  but  such 
As  some  misfortune  brings  him,  or  mistake; 
Or  whom  he  wislies  most  shall  seldom  gain. 

Or  his  happiest  choice  too  late 

Shall  meet  already  link'd  and  wedlock  bound," 

It  is  sad  indeed  to  think  how  often  this  projihecy  has 
been  fullilled,  forming  so  large  an  element  in  poetry  from 
Shakespeare,  who  moralizes  on  "  the  course  of  truelove  " — 
down  to  Whittier,  whose  touching  lines  will  not  soon  be 
forgotten  : 

"  For  of  all  the  sad  words  of  tongue  or  pen, 
The  saddest  are  these  —  it  might  have  been." 

As  the  author  of  the  above  has  gone  through  life  a 
bachelor,  it  is  possible  that  he  uttered  on  this  occasion 
the  lessons  of  his  own  experience. 


The  Lamia.  17 

One  of  the  most  striking  poems  written  by  Keats  is 
the  Lamia.  The  theme  is  the  serpent  turned  into  the 
woman,  who  enchants  tiic  Grecian  youth,  notwithstand- 
ing the  expostulations  of  the  old  philosopher.  In  modern 
society  the  Lamia  is  the  woman  whose  vanity  is  fed  by 
the  admiration  and  attention  of  married  men,  who,  on 
the  other  hand,  are  fascinated  by  her  graces  of  conversa- 
tion or  flattery.  This  is  often  done  under  a  clear  sky, 
and  with  no  such  attempt  at  secrecy  as  might  involve 
guilt,  and  yet  it  cannot  but  occasion  distress,  and  event- 
ually break  up  family  peace.  These  downward  steps  are 
seldom  retraced,  and  the  tendency  is  to  a  deeper  descent  in 
the  path  of  ruin.  The  Lamia  is  frequently  to  be  seen  in 
what  is  called  "good  society,"  and  much  of  the  disrup- 
tion found  in  such  circles  is  thus  to  be  explained.  Men 
under  such  influences  often  lose  self  control  and  yet  they 
cannot  deny  responsibility. 

It  may  be  noticed  here  that  some  of  the  best  emotional 
poetry  of  the  eighteenth  century  was  written  by  a  bachelor 
who,  as  some  think,  never  intended  to  call  any  woman 
wife.  Such,  however,  was  the  case  with  Pope.  Perhaps 
he  did  not  at  first  contemplate  celibacy,  and  therefore 
consecrated  the  early  products  of  his  muse  to  love.  Ill 
health  and  other  reasons  now  unknown  may  have  pre- 
vented marriage,  though  his  intimacy  with  Martha  Blount 
is  a  matter  of  biographical  record. 

Pope  saw  many  instances  of  marriages  in  which  wealth 
was  the  sole  object,  as  is  so  frequently  the  case  in  our 
own  day,  and  he  writes  thus : 

"The  gods  to  curse  Pamela  with  her  prayers, 
Gave  the  gilt  coach  and  dappled  Flanders  mares; 
The  shining  robes,  rich  jewels,  beds  of  state, 
And  to  complete  her  bliss  —  a  fool  for  mate." 

This   occurs   in    his   epistle   to   the   above-mentioned 
3 


18  Our  Book. 

Martha,  in  which  he  offers  some  excellent  advice  on  mar- 
riage, but  omits  to  give  her  the  opportunity  of  becoming 
a  poet's  bride,  which  seems  a  great  inconsistency. 

"Woman's  Discernment. 

Speaking  of  courtship,  a  woman  of  some  experience 
made  the  remark  that  the<first  refusal  is  never  to  be  taken. 
A  gentle  urgency,  a  soft  and  tender  pleading,  is  often 
necessary  in  order  to  remove  those  peculiar  difficulties 
which  occur  under  such  trying  circumstances,  and  there- 
fore Theodosia  Burr  rallies  her  father  (v{<f<?page  565),  for 
not  pressing  his  suit  when  wooing  Celesta.  "  You  took  it 
as  a  plump  refusal  and  walked  off — I  would  have  seen 
you  in  Japan  before  I  would  have  gone  farther." 

A  woman  well  read  in  modern  fiction  says,  that  she  can 
readily  tell  the  sex  of  an  author  by  the  manner  in  which 
husbands  treat  their  wives.  In  a  woman's  novel,  the  former 
is  more  demonstrative  of  affection,  lie  pets  his  wife, 
calls  her  "darling"  and  other  fond  names,  often  ridicu- 
lous but  full  of  feeling.  She  says  that  wives  crave  such 
demonstrations  which  unfortunately  they  too  rarely  re- 
ceive, and  hence  woman  when  writing  naturally  portrays 
her  own  heart. 

Happiness  from  Self-denial. 
Is  it  to  be  understood  that  only  rich  folks  should  marry  ? 
If  so,  to  what  a  narrow  range  must  matrimony  be  limited  ? 
And  then  experience  has  shown  that  there  is,  relatively 
speaking,  as  much  matrimonial  trouble  among  the  rich  as 
among  the  poor.  Poor  people  as  they  are  often  termed  — 
meaning  those  who  work  for  a  living  —  are  the  very  class 
to  whom  wedded  life  is  the  greatest  boon.  "  Love  in  a 
cottage"  may  l)e  a  reality  if  the  furniture  be  of  a  proper 
character.     Self-denial  is  one  of  the  chief  elements  in 


LiTERAKY  Marriages.  19 

domestic  happiness,  and  a  cottage  furnished  in  this  style 
will  be  a  happy  one. 

Wedded  life  in  its  highest  development  is  a  new  crea- 
tion formed  by  the  fusion  of  two  harmonious  natures,  in 
which  each  seeks  to  promote  the  happiness  of  the  other. 
If  such  be  the  case,  selfishness  is  one  of  its  worst  foes, 
and  Crabbe,  while  describing  a  match  based  upon  it, 
writes  thus : 

"  Love  dies  all  kinds  of  death  ;  in  some  so  quick 
It  comes  —  he  is  not  previously  sick." 

Campbell,  on  the  other  hand,  says : 

*' Time  makes  all  but  true  love  old ; 

The  burning  thoughts  that  then  were  told 
Run  molten  still  in  memory's  mould, 

And  will  not  cool ; 
Until  the  heart  itself  be  cold 
In  Lethe's  pool." 

These  lines  were  quoted  by  Irving,  in  reference  to  his 
dead  sweet-heart,  whose  memory  was  cherished  so  dearly 
until  the  last. 

Southey's  Ideas. 

Alas  that  courtship  is  so  often  killed  by  the  wedding 
ring.  Robert  Sou  they  says:  "I  once  saw  a  book  on  a 
blank  page  of  which  a  servant  girl  had  written  thus, 
'  Not  much  love  after  marriage,  but  a  good  deal  before.' " 
This  sad  confession  may  be  true  in  every  station  of  life 
where  the  follies  or  the  cares  exercise  an  unwholesome 
influence,  but  it  is  not  so  with  well-constituted  minds. 
The  true  view  is  that  wedlock  is  tlie  greatest  privilege 
of  our  race.  Like  all  other  privileges,  it  is  best  won  by 
sacrifice.  All  that  one  gives  up  in  order  to  obtain  love 
will  be  repaid,  because  love  is  its  own  reward.  The  high- 
est attainments  of  wedded  bliss  are  impossible  to  the  self- 
ish. True  love  is  shown  by  the  willingness  to  labor  and 
endure  hardship  for  the  object  of  affection. 


so  OuK  Book. 

Southey,  wlio  wrote  from  deep  cxpcriciicG  says  the 
drciini  of  life  can  last  with  none  of  ns 

"As  if  the  thing  beloved  were  fill  a  saint, 
And  every  place  she  entered  were  a  slirine," 

bnt  it  must  bo  our  own  fault  when  it  has  passed  away,  if 
the  realities  ditappoint  us.  lie  adds  "that  love  is  the 
best  of  letter- writers,  because  in  such  a  correspondence 
the  feelings  flow  from  the  heart,  but  he  expresses  his 
contempt  for  amatory  poetry  of  any  kind. 

Coleridge  and  Southey  were  unequally  gifted,  the 
former  being  endowed  with  a  splendid  genius,  while  the 
latter  had  the  gift  of  industry  and  was  a  laborious  litera- 
teur.  His  abilities  were  cultivated  to  a  degree  seldom 
equaled,  and  were  driven  with  prodigious  application. 
These  men  married  sisters — poor  girls — whom  Byron 
contemptuously  called  the  "  milliners  of  Bath,''  and 
whose  subsequent  history  reveals  a  surprising  difference. 

Edith   Fricker  married  Southey   the,  literaiy  drudge, 

while   Sara   married     Coleridge   the   wonderful   genius. 

The  latter,  however,  squandered  his  abilities  and  [)assed 

most  of  his  time  in  opium  intoxication,  until  at  the  age 

of  forty  he  abandoned  his  family,  which  was  generously 

protected  by  Southey.     For  several  years  the  latter  shared 

his  slender  earnings  with  Sara  Coleridge  and  her  children, 

while  the  husband  and  father  was  begging  the  means  of 

gratifying  his  depraved  appetite.     And  yet  in  the  point  of 

love  poetry  Coleridge  was  a  master.     No  wonder  Southey 

formed  a  low  idea  of  this  style  of  verse,  since  his  inebriate 

brother-in-law  who  abandoned  wife  and  children,  could 

write : 

"  All  thoughts,  all  passions,  all  delights, 
Whatever  stir  this  mortal  frame 
Are  but  the  ministers  of  love. 

And  feed  his  sacred  flame." 

The  reason  why  Southey  lived  happily  with  his  wife 


LiTEKABY  Marriages.  21 

while  Coleridge  made  domestic  life  a  failure,  is  found  in 
the  fact  that  the  first  based  his  love  on  self-denial,  while 
the  latter  was  selfish.  Southey  refused  while  living  in  Lon- 
don, to  join  a  literary  club,  because  it  would  take  his  even- 
ings from  home,  but  Coleridge  would  not  abandon  opium 
for  any  domestic  considerations.  The  man  who  cannot  sac- 
rifice a  depraved  appetite  in  order  to  promote  home  life  has 
a  small  chance  of  making  himself  or  any  other  one  happy  by 
marriage. 

Shakespeare's  Picture. 

See  how  naturally  Shakespeare  hits  oflE  this  very  idea 

in  The  Tempest : 

Ferdinand  (carrying  logs  in  obedience  to  Prospero.) 
There  be  some  kinds  of  baseness 
Nobly  undergone.     This  my  mean  task 
As  heavy  to  me  as  'tis  odious ;  but 
The  mistress  which  1  serve  quickens  what's  dead 
And  makes  my  labors  pleasure.     I  must  remove 
Some  thousands  of  these  logs  and  pile  them  up. 
My  sweet  mistress  weeps  when  she  sees  me  work, 
But  these  sweet  thoughts  do  refresh  my  labors. 

Enter  Miranda  — 

Alas  now !     Pray  you 
Work  not  so  hard.     I  would  the  lightning  had 
Burnt  up  those  logs  that  you  are  enjoined  to  pile. 
Pray  set  it  down  and  rest  you. 
If  you  '11  sit  down, 

I  '11  bear  your  logs  the  while ;  pray  give  me  that, 
I  '11  carry  it  to  the  pile.     You  look  wearily. 

Ferdinand  — 

No,  noble  mistress,  'tis  fresh  morning  with  me 
When  you  are  near,    *       ♦       *       and  for  your  sake 
I  am  tills  patient  log  man. 

Prospero  then  appears,    speaking  thus : 

If  I  have  too  austerely  punished  you 
Your  compensation  makes  a  just  amend. 
All  thy  vexations 
Were  but  trials  of  thy  love. 

The  question  with  those  who  seek  the  joys  of  wedlock 
is,  how  many  logs  are  they  willing  to  carry  ? 


22  Our  Book. 

Matrimonial  Difficulties. 

A  popular  preacher  recently  addressing  young  men, 

said  that  "  even  if  they   were  unhajipily  married  they 

should  not  separate."     This  is  all  very  well  so  far  as  it 

goes,  but  why  not  tell  them  how  to  prevent  or  forestall 

unhappiness?      Shakespeare  is   better  authority  on  this 

point  than  the  clergy,  for  he  makes  one  of  his  female 

characters  utter  the  following  : 

"  Alas,  poor  woman !     Make  us  but  believe 
You  love  us.     We  in  your  motion  turn 
And  you  may  move  us. 
Comfort  my  sister,  cheer  her,  call  her  tvife.''^ 

The  preacher  might  have  improved  the  opportunity  to 
tell  these  young  men  not  to  stop  their  courtship  as  soon 
as  the  bridal  vow  is  uttered. 

"How  is  matrimony  to  be  made  practicable  in  a  great 

city?"      To  find  an  answer,  however,  has  embarrassed 

reformers  and  political  economists  for  ages.     It  was  one 

of  the  important  questions  in  Rome  before  the  Christian 

era,  and  its  importance  is  no  less  vital  at  present.     One 

of  the  saddest  features,   indeed,  of  a  great  city   is  the 

vast  number  of  young  people  of  both  sexes  who,  under 

more  favorable  circumstances,  would  be  married,  but  are 

not.     It  is  a  beautiful   idea  that  everyone  has  a  mate. 

Alas  for  the  sad   reality  that  so  many  go  through  life 

without  finding  one  even  in  M'edlock  —  for  in  painful 

contrast  with  the  blind  search  after  the  ideal  —  there  is, 

too  often  that  "  incompatibility  "  which  interferes  with 

wedded  bliss.     Perhaps  this  may  have  suggested  the  lines 

by  Mrs.  Brooks,  better  known  as  Maria  del  Occidente: 

"Many  a  soul  o'er  life's  drear  desert  faring, 

Love's  pure  congenial  springs  unfound,  uuquaffed, 
Suffers,  recoils,  then  tliirsty  and  despairing 

Of  what  it  would  —  descends  and  sips  the  nearest  draught." 

This  descending  to  sip  the  nearest  draught   is  a  sad 


Book  Making.  23 

ature  in  society,  especially  as  single  life  so  often  devel- 
opes  the  highest  usefulness  which  brings  its  own  reward. 
Those  who  descend  to  sip  the  nearest  draught,  often  find 
it  hitter,  if  not  poisonous.  Marrying  merely  to  be  mar- 
ried, is  only  an  importation  of  one  of  the  worst  customs 
in  India. 


BOOK  MAKING. 

Formerly  publishers,  in  issuing  a  work,  assumed  all 
risks,  but  they  now  generally  require  authors  to  make  their 
own  stereotype  plates.  It  will  cost  about  $400  to  stereo- 
type an  ordinary  novel,  and  hence  an  author  requires  not 
only  brains  but  some  cash.  Next  is  the  copyright,  to 
obtain  which  he  must  comply  with  the  legal  requirement 
which  will  be  furnished  by  the  librarian  of  Congress. 
To  secure  the  claim  he  must  send  two  copies  of  the  book 
to  the  Congressional  library  at  Washington  within  ten 
days  after  publication. 

This  library  is  certainly  unfortuate  in  being  thus  encum- 
bered with  immense  quantities  of  trash.  Just  think  what 
a  collection  it  must  be  when  every  copyrighted  volume, 
good,  bad  and  indifferent,  is  forced  upon  its  shelves. 

When  the  stereotype  plates  are  finished,  the  publisher, 
if  he  accepts  the  work,  assumes  the  remainder  of  the 
expense.  If  the  book  be  of  an  interesting  character,  and 
has  a  profitable  sale,  he  will  give  a  percentage  of  ten  or 
even  twenty  per  cent  on  the  retail  price.  Out  of  this 
commission  the  author  must  expect  to  meet  the  expense 
of  making  the  plates,  and  perhaps  he  may  have  a  httle 
over  for  his  literary  toil.  It  will  however,  be  a  success- 
ful book  that  yields  $500,  and,  indeed  novels  rarely  do 
better  than  $300  to  $500,  while  many  fail  to  pay  the 


24  OuK  Book. 

cost  of  the  plates.  There  are  few  trades  liable  to  greater 
risk  than  book  making,  as  both  authors  and  publishers 
have  learned  by  experience. 

A  sad  lesson  of  this  kind  is  found  in  the  life  of  Scott, 
which  affords  so  impressive  a  contrast  between  grandeur 
and  misfortune.  His  publishing  house  issued  a  number 
of  valuable  works,  whose  sale  was  unreraunerative,  and, 
in  fact,  the  loss  on  these  sunk  a  large  part  of  the  profit 
made  on  the  Waverley  novels.  In  a  like  manner  our  book- 
sellers sometimes  lose  in  one  unsalable  edition  all  the 
profits  made  on  a  half  dozen  successful  works.  A  volume 
which  has  cost  seventy-five  cents  to  manufacture  may  be 
unsalable  at  a  dime,  and  indeed  may  only  be  worth  the 
price  of  old  paper.  Some  writers  are  so  desirous  to  see 
their  names  in  print  that  they  are  ready  to  encounter  the 
risks  of  sale,  and  many  of  those  works  which  bear  tlie 
imprint  of  respectable  book  houses  are  gotten  up  solely 
at  the  author's  expense. 

Even  writers  of  repute  are  often  required  to  stand  a 
large  part  of  the  expense  of  publication.  This  was  the 
case  with  Horace  Greeley,  M'ho  said  that  when  he  con- 
templated issuing  a  volume  of  essays,  the  scheme  was 
proposed  to  the  Harpers.  Tlie  reply  was :  "  Get  your  book 
stereotyped  and  bring  us  the  plates,  and  we  will  publish 
it."  Had  it  been  any  less  distinguished  man  than  Horace 
Greeley,  the  publishers  would  have  required  him  to  bear 
the  entire  expense  of  pubhcation. 

When  a  book  has  been  printed,  the  work  is  only  half 
done.  However  much  it  may  have  cost  to  manufacture, 
as  much  more  may  be  required  to  advertise  it.  A  large 
number  should  be  presented  to  editors  and  critics,  a  few 
of  whom  may  read  the  book,  while  others  merely  glance 
at  the  title  page  and  contents.  Being  lately  in  the  office 
of  a  leading  daily,  I  saw  a  large  pile  of  new  volumes  sent 


Book  Making.  25 

in  to  be  noticed.  The  first  thing  done  was  to  number 
them,  and  I  observed  that  the  figures  had  reached  beyond 
six  thousand  !  Just  think  of  that !  Six  thousand  volumes 
passed  into  that  otiice  for  criticism.  The  plea  of  youth 
is  in  bad  taste,  and  now  is  rarely  used.  Byron  pub- 
lished his  Hours  of  Idleness  by  *'  George  Gordon  Byron, 
a  minor,"  and  adds  in  the  preface  his  age  —  "nineteen." 
How  keenly  the  Edinburgh  Keview  cut  him  for  his  weak- 
ness !  The  most  excusable  case  was  Henry  Kirke  White, 
whose  poems  were  published  at  seventeen  to  assist  his 
education,  and  he  appeals  to  the  critics  to  ''  scan  his  faults 
with  an  indulgent  eye,"  but  unfortunately  they  were  deaf 
to  this  entreaty,  and  the  severity  of  one  review  almost 
broke  his  heart.  "  Wherever  I  go,"  said  he,  "  this  review 
goes  before  me."  He  never  indeed  fully  recovered  from 
the  blow,  and  it  was  this  which  inspired  his  poem  on 
Disappointment. 

Another  instance  is  Bryant's  "Embargo,"  which  was 
accompanied  by  the  certificate  of  his  friends,  that  "  the 
author  was  only  thirteen."  The  "  Embargo  "  is  now  very 
rare,  and  has  brought  $il  at  auction.  Thirteen  years  after 
its  publication,  the  author  occupied  the  editorial  chair  of 
the  Evening  Post,  which  he  held  until  death,  after  nearly 
half  a  century's  service. 

Professional  Reading. 
Publishers  generally  employ  some  man  of  high  literary 
character  to  examine  whatever  may  be  offered  them. 
This  person  is  called  their  "reader,"  and  his  duty  is  one 
of  great  importance,  since  both  the  destiny  of  the  author 
and  the  profit  of  the  employer  are  in  his  hands.  Some 
houses  of  extensive  character  employ  several  readers,  one 
to  examine  works  of  fiction,  while  to  another  is  detailed 
the  department  of  science.  Such  reading  is  always  very 
trying  work  and  a  veteran  reader  once  said  to  me  with 
4 


26  Our  Book. 

emphasis,  "A  man's  judgment  is  good  for  nothing  after 
he  has  read  two  hours.  He  must  then  rest."  Indeed,  it 
is  difficult  for  any  one  to  divest  himself  of  his  own  pref- 
erences and  place  himself  in  the  attitude  of  the  public. 
This  must  be  done  however,  and  it  is  done  by  a  good 
reader.  He  must  not  only  be  able  to  say  how  a  work 
])leascs  his  own  taste,  but  also  how  it  will  be  received  by 
book  purchasers. 

Here  is  the  point  where  publishers  often  make  great 
mistakes.  For  instance,  Irving  says,  that  after  he  had 
written  the  Sketch  Book,  much  of  which  was  done  in 
England,  he  offered  it  to  John  Murray,  the  most  fashion- 
able publisher  in  London,  who  was  patronized  by  Byron 
and  other  distinguished  writers  of  the  day.  Murray 
declined  the  offer,  coming  as  it  did  from  an  obscure 
American.  Irving  subsequently  found  a  publisher  in 
Miller,  and  the  book  sold  readily.  Miller  afterward 
failed,  and  Murray  was  then  glad  to  accept  the  business. 
Thenceforth  he  became  Irving's  publisher  and  found  the 
American  author  a  source  of  great  profit. 

Irving  and  the  SMrrHS. 
About  the  same  time  that  the  Sketch  Book  was  seeking 
a  publisher  another  equally  interesting  volume  was  a  simi- 
lar applicant.  I  refer  to  Rejected  Addresses,  l)y  Hor- 
ace and  James  Smith  —  M'hich  became  one  of  the  most 
popular  books  of  its  day.  Horace  Smith  says:  "Being 
strangers  to  the  bookseller's  method  we  little  imagined 
the}'  would  refuse  to  publish  our  book,  especially  as  we 
asked  nothing  for  the  copyright.  Such,  however  proved 
to  be  the  case.  Our  MSS.  was  perused  and  returned  by 
several  of  the  most  eminent  publishers.  Well  do  we  re- 
member calling  on  one  of  the  craft  who  inquired  '  what 
have  you  written  ? '    The  reply  was  '  nothing  by  which 


Book  Making.  27 

we  can  be  known.'  '  Tlien'  said  he  'I  am  afraid  to  un- 
dertake the  jjubhcation.'  The  applicant  suggested  in 
reply  that  every  writer  must  have  a  beginning,  and  the 
publisher  then  promised  to  look  over  the  MSS.  and  give 
an  answer  the  next  day.  The  reply  was  a  firm  refusal 
accompanied  by  the  observation  'these  trifles  are  not  de- 
ficient in  smartness  —  but  tliey  will  not  pay  for  advertis- 
ing and  without  it  I  should  not  sell  fifty  copies.'  "  Such 
was  John  Murray's  curt  dismissal  of  the  young  satirist. 
The  latter  adds,  "  our  addresses  might  never  have  seen 
the  light  had  not  some  good  angel  whispered  us  to  apply 
to  Miller,  and  no  sooner  had  he  looked  over  our  MSS. 
tlian  lie  immediately  offered  to  assume  all  risk  of  publica- 
tion and  give  us  one-half  the  profits."  The  result  was  a 
brilliant  success.  Murray"  also  declined  Yirginius,  which 
found  another  publisher,  and  proved  one  of  the  best  hits 
of  that  day.  A  half  century  previously  Goldsmith's 
She  Stoops  to  Conquer  was  rejected  by  Manager  Cole- 
man, but  he  was  over-persuaded,  and  it  became  a  favorite. 
Miss  Mitford  offered  Our  Village  to  the  New  Monthly 
Magazine,  then  edited  by  Thomas  Campbell,  but  the 
work  was  declined.  Fortunately,  however,  she  found  a 
publisher  and  the  book  proved  highly  popular.  An  illus- 
trated edition  has  recently  been  issued  in  this  country  as 
a  gift-book  for  which  it  is  very  appropriate.  Kingslake's 
admirable  book  of  travels  Eothen  was  declined  by  sev- 
eral publishers,  and  he  then  issued  it  at  his  own  risk 
and  it  succeeded.  Prescott's  Ferdinand  and  Isabella  was 
declined  by  two  London  publishers,  but  was  accepted  by 
Bentley  who  found  it  very  profitable.  The  Diary  of  a 
Late  London  Physician  was  one  of  the  most  popular 
works  of  its  day,  but  for  a  long  time  its  author  sought  in 
vain  for  a  publisher.  Eventually  he  tried  Blackwood 
who  saw  its  value,  and  this  led  to  a  long  and  brilliant 


28  OuK  Book. 

career  of  authorship.  Fanuy  Fern's  first  offering  was  also 
declined,  but  in  a  few  years  she  made  $75  a  week.  I  do 
not  mention  these  facts  to  encourage  unwarranted  pre- 
sumption, but  merely  to  show  that  professional  readers 
sometimes  make  great  blunders.  Noah  Webster  set  a 
good  example  to  the  literary  world  by  asking  no  favors  of 
publishers.  Having  spent  the  best  part  of  his  life  in  mak- 
ing a  dictionary,  he  published  it  at  his  own  expense  and 
was  three  score  and  ten  when  the  first  edition  appeared. 

Lessons  to  Authors. 

Authors  who  may  be  disappointed  in  the  expectation 
of  profit  should  reflect  on  the  example  afforded  by  Shakes- 
peare who  never  obtained  a  penny  by  book  making.  The 
progress  of  his  works  Avas  very  slow,  and  almost  a  cen- 
tury had  elapsed  before  they  became  generally  read. 
Addison  was  the  first  critic  to  direct  public  attention  to 
the  great  dramatist,  for,  though  Milton  had  spoken  of 
him  as  "  My  Shakespeare,"  there  were  few  to  share  his 
admiration.  One  of  the  first  signs  of  general  popularity 
was  the  fact  that  Jacob  Tonson,  in  the  year  1715,  used  a 
Shakespeare's  head  as  his  sign. 

Speaking  of  authors  and  booksellers  it  may  be  said 
that  Thomas  Cadell  of  London,  who  published  Gibbon's 
History  of  the  Decline  and  Fall,  was  the  first  of  the  craft 
to  compliment  an  author  by  a  special  dinner.  Tliis  oc- 
curred when  the  last  volume  was  pubHshed,  which  took 
place  on  the  fiftieth  birthday  of  the  author,  the  celebra- 
tion thus  being  of  two-fold  character. 

Gibbon  w\as  the  most  modest  of  authors.  His  first  pro- 
duction, the  "  Essai  sur  V etude  de  la  literature,^^  was  only 
published  on  the  urgent  request  of  his  father.  When  the 
first  volume  of  the  Decline  and  Fall  went  to  press  he 
limited  the  edition  to  500  copies,  but  the  printer  doubled 


Book  Making.  29 

the  Tiumber.  The  modest  author  was  astonished  to  find 
three  editions  of  equal  size  immediately  called  for,  and  he 
says  it  was  soon  to  be  seen  on  the  parlor  tables  of  the  gentry, 
while  the  author's  praise  was  a  theme  in  general  society. 
Booksellers  have  generally  been  peaceable  men,  but 
Mathew  Carey,  formerly  of  Philadelphia  where  he  was 
one  of  the  founders  of  the  trade,  fought  a  duel  with  Colo- 
nel Oswald  and  was  severely  though  not  fatally  wounded. 
Henry  Knox,  the  young  bookseller  of  Boston,  became  the 
Gen.  Knox  of  the  Revolution,  and  was  Secretary  of  War 
under  Washington. 

Old  Publishers. 

Looking  back  upon  the  early  history  of  our  literature, 
we  find  much  that  is  interesting  in  the  printers'and  pub- 
lishers who  pioneei-ed  the  profession.  The  works  of 
Aldus  are  among  the  gems  of  the  great  Tuscany  library, 
and  the  term  "Aldine"  is  now  suggestive  of  high  art. 
The  Elzevirs  stood  at  the  head  of  the  trade  in  Holland 
for  a  century.  The  founder  of  this  house  jDublished  one 
hundred  and  fifty  first  class  works,  and  five  of  his  seven 
sons  pursued  the  same  craft.  The  entire  list  of  Elzevir 
publications  is  one  thousand  two  hundred  and  thirteen, 
including  seven  different  languages.  The  Stephens  family, 
of  Paris  and  Geneva,  also  maintained  for  a  century  and  a 
half  the  dignity  of  the  book  trade. 

Shakespeare's  first  posthumous  publishers  were  two 
fellow  actors,  John  Hennninge  and  Henry  Condell,  who 
issued  the  first  collected  edition  seven  years  after  the 
author's  death.  It  is  not  probable  that  this  work  was 
remunerative  since  it  is  said  that  only  two  hundred  and 
fifty  copies  were  printed,  and  indeed  it  is  doubtful  whether 
any  thing  was  made  out  of  Shakespeare  for  the  first  hun- 
dred years. 


so  Cub  l3ooK, 

Milton's  publisher  was  Samuel  Simmons,  of  London, 
who,  in  1667,  agreed  to  pay  £5  for  Paradise  Lost,  but  an 
additional  £5  was  to  be  paid  after  one  thousand  three 
hundred  copies  should  be  sold.  This  occurred  in  two 
years.  Seven  years  after  the  appearance  of  the  first 
edition,  a  second  was  published.  In  16S1  the  poet's 
widow  sold  the  entire  copyright  for  £S.  Milton  has  never 
been  as  profitable  to  the  trade  as  Shakespeare,  but  still 
the  sale  of  his  M'orks  has  been  remunerative.  Shalces- 
peare  had  but  little  idea  of  general  literature  as  a  traffic, 
and  though  he  speaks  of  "  books  in  tlie  running  brooks," 
they  were  not  for  sale,  but  were  as  free  as  water. 

Authors'  Pay. 

This  subject  has  been  handled  in  a  very  careless  man- 
ner and  generally  contains  an  unusual  degree  of  exaggera- 
tion. The  record  goes  back  to  Dryden,  who  published 
his  translation  of  Yirgil  in  1697,  and  it  proved  so  popu- 
lar that  his  reward  was  a  sum  equal  to  $6,000,  but  this 
was  the  only  good  hit  in  his  whole  life.  Pope  began 
small  and  gradually  advanced.  His  Windsor  Forest,  pub- 
lished when  he  was  twenty-four,  brougiit  him  £32  — 
equal  to  $156.  Money  was  then  worth  much  more  than 
at  the  present  time,  but,  admitting  this,  it  is  a  small  sum 
for  a  first-class  poem.  His  Homer  yielded  equal  to 
$16,000,  but  he  was  ten  years  at  the  task.  Goldsmith  re- 
ceived $105  for  the  Traveler  and  $500  for  the  Deserted 
Village.  The  Yicar  of  Wakefield  was  also  $500,  but  his 
plays  did  much  better,  for  the  two  brought  him  $6,250, 
this  being  the  equivalent  in  our  currency. 

Walter  Scott  received  $3,800  for  the  Lay  of  the  Last 
Ministrel  and  $5,200  for  Marniion,  while  the  Lady  of  the 
Lake  yielded  double  the  last  mentioned  sum.  Byron's 
muse  was  also  profitable.     He  gave  Childe  Harold  to  liis 


Book  Making.  31 

friend  and  critic  Dallas,  who  realized  $20,000  from  its 
sale. 

Tom  Moore  was  paid  $15,000  for  Lalla  Rookh  which, 
however,  occupied  a  number  of  his  best  years.  Campbell 
was  the  poorest  paid  of  all  modern  poets  for  he  only 
received  $100  for  his  first  and  best  poem,  the  Pleasures 
of  Hope.  He  wrote  it  early  in  life,  and  neither  he  nor 
the  publisher  ever  imagined  it  would  be  so  wonderfully 
popular.  Southey,  on  the  other  hand,  having  a  reputa- 
tion, got  large  sums  for  his  so-called  poetry,  and  even  the 
unreadable  Thalaba  brought  him  $500.  Now  that  these 
poems  arc  so  completely  dead  one  cannot  but  be  surprised 
that  they  ever  had  a  place  in  literature. 

Other  "Writers. 

William  Godwin  received  only  $400  for  his  Caleb 
Williams,  but  the  reputation  it  brought  him  made  his 
next  book,  St.  Leon,  worth  five  times  as  much.  God- 
win's novels  were  the  hterary  wonders  of  that  day,  but 
no  one  reads  them  now.  George  Elliot  (Mrs.  Lewes) 
averaged  $10,000  for  each  of  her  novels.  Bulwer's 
novels  averaged  him  $5,000,  and  Marryatt's  one-fifth  of 
that  sum. 

First-class  biography  pays  well,  and  Moore  got  $20,000 
for  his  Life  of  Byron,  and  even  half  that  sum  for  his  life 
of  Sheridan.  The  most  profitable  work  of  this  kind, 
however,  was  Scott's  Life  of  Napoleon,  which  had  an 
immense  sale,  not  only  from  the  fame  of  the  author  but 
because  it  was  the  first  life  of  the  wonderful  soldier. 
It  was  written  in  the  most  hurried  manner,  and  is  no 
longer  authority,  but  it  brought  the  author  —  or  rather 
his  creditors,  $70,000. 

Popular  history  is  often  remunerative  and  Gibbon 
received  $30,000  for  his  Decline  and  Fall,  but  as  it  was 


32  Our  Book. 

the  work  of  twenty  years  the  profit  is  not  so  great  after 
all.  Prescott  received  $7,500  from  the  Harpers  for  his 
Conquest  of  Mexico,  with  a  royalty  of  $1  a  copy  for  all 
subsequent  sales. 

I  have  spoken  of  Washington  Irving  as  the  best  paid 
American  author,  and  it  is  evident  that  he  was  the  most 
successful  in  obtaining  foreign  patronage.  Although 
John  Murray  at  first  declined  issuing  the  Sketch  Book, 
he  was  afterward  glad  to  publish  all  of  Irving's  works, 
and  the  entire  sum  realized  by  the  author  in  England  was 
£12,217  — equal  to  nearly  $60,000.  All  of  this  came 
from  Murray  except  £1,000  which  was  paid  by  Bentley 
for  the  Alhambra.  The  highest  price  was  for  the  Life  of 
Columbus.  This  work  is  now  but  little  read,  and  yet  such 
was  the  interest  in  the  subject  that  when  published  Irving 
received  £3,150  from  Murray,  and  $9,000  from  American 
publishers,  in  all  about  $25,000.  No  American  author 
has  ever  received  so  ranch  for  any  work,  except  Mrs. 
Stowe,  who  has,  as  it  is  said,  cleared  $40,000  on  Uncle 
Tom's  Cabin.  Irving's  popularity  increased  rapidly  dur- 
ing his  latter  days.  Up  to  1843  he  had  received  $63,000, 
and  had  been  before  the  public  nearly  forty  years.  Dur- 
ing the  last  eleven  years  of  his  life  his  publisher,  Mr. 
Putnam,  paid  him  $88,000.  The  demand  has  continued 
since  the  author's  death,  and  the  commissions  received  by 
his  heirs  for  five  years  were  $34,000. 

Roe  was  the  best  paid  author  since  Irving  ;  his  success, 
however,  is  much  exaggerated.  Grant's  Memoirs  yielded 
a  richer  return  than  any  other  American  book,  but  the 
General  was  not  included  among  our  authors. 

Hawthorne,  who  had  more  genius  than  any  other 
American  prose  writer,  never  received  much  from  his 
novels,  though  they  are  superior  to  any  other  produc- 
tion of  American  fiction. 


Book  Histories.  33 

I  have  often  thought  that  the  histories  of  books  would 
add  much  to  their  interest.  Hence  the  explanatory  state- 
ments made  by  authors  always  attract  my  notice.  Cooper 
says  he  was  led  to  write  the  Pilot  by  reading  the  Pirate 
(by  Scott),  for  it  awoke  the  "  determination  to  produce  a 
work,  which,  if  it  had  no  other  merit,  might  present  truer 
pictures  of  the  ocean  and  ships,  than  are  to  be  found  in  the 
Pirate."     Its  success  led  Cooper  to  other  marine  novels. 

"Walter  Scott  says  that  Miss  Edgeworth's  admirable  Irish 
sketches  awoke  the  desire  to  portray  Scottish  character  in 
a  similar  manner,  and  this  led  to  Waverly.  He  there- 
fore presented  her  a  copy  through  the  publisher,  who 
soon  afterward  sent  her  an  acknowledgment  of  her  in- 
fluence on  the  unknown  author.  Gibbon  mentions  that 
his  life  work  (the  Decline  and  Fall),  was  suggested  during 
his  first  and  only  visit  to  Rome,  while  he  was  musing 
amid  the  ruins  of  the  capitol  one  October  evening.  He 
heard  the  barefoot  friars  singing  vespers,  and  the  idea 
occurred  of  writing  the  history  of  those  causes  which 
brought  the  grandeur  of  imperial  Rome  to  decay  and  ruin. 
To  those  friars  the  world  owes  a  grand  literary  work. 

Going  back  to  antiquity  it  is  evident  that  the  perusal  of 
the  Iliad  led  Virgil  to  write  the  ^neid.  In  later  times 
Cervantes  wrote  Don  Quixote  for  the  purpose  of  ridiculing 
knight  errantry,  and  coming  down  to  our  own  day  Joseph 
Rodman  Drake  wrote  the  Culprit  Fay  in  order  to  prove 
that  the  Hudson  and  its  vicinity  could  be  made  the  scene 
of  romantic  and  imaginative  poetry.  It  is  very  evident 
that  a  leading  feature  in  Salmagundi — the  letters  of 
Rubadub  KeH  Khan  —  were  suggested  by  the  letters  of 
Lien  Chi  Altingi  in  Goldsmith's  Chinese  Philosopher.  Pol- 
lok  tells  us  that  the  Course  of  Time  was  suggested  by  read- 
ing one  of  Byron's  minor  poems  called  Darkness, and  Byron 
5 


34  Our  Book. 

himself  says  that  liis  tragedy  of  Werner  was  drawn  from 
the  Canterbury  Tales.  The  successful  fraud  of  George 
Psalmanazar  —  the  history  of  Formosa  —  no  doubt  led 
Swift  to  write  Gulliver's  Travels,  and  Coleridge  says  his 
Kubla  Khan  was  the  result  of  reading  Purchas  Pilgrimage. 

Fielding  was  led  to  write  Joseph  Andrews  by  a 
desire  to  satirize  Richardson's  Pamela,  and  Gay  wrote 
the  Beggar's  Opera  to  ridicule  the  foreign  opera  which 
had  recently  been  introduced  and  which  became  so 
fashionable  that  lovers  of  old  English  amusements  were 
indignant.  The  foreign  opera  sought  its  heroes  in  royalty 
and  romance,  and  by  way  of  contrast  Gay  took  for  his 
hero  a  highway  robber.  Yery  strangely  as  some  would 
think,  he  gave  to  this  production  the  name  of  Beggar's 
Opera,  and  yet  there  is  not  a  beggar  in  it.  Here,  how- 
ever, we  may  see  another  satirical  hit.  The  foreign  operas 
had  high  sounding  names,  but  Gay  determined,  by  way 
of  contrast,  to  take  the  most  contemptible  one  that  came 
within  the  range  of  decency.  Hence  he  called  his  play 
the  Beggar's  Opera,  or  opera  fit  for  beggars  and  the  pub- 
lic showed  its  appreciation  of  the  satire  by  the  extraor- 
dinary run  which  attended  its  performance. 

Irving  wrote  his  Knickerbocker  history  as  a  burlesque 
on  the  Historical  Society,  and  Dr.  Mitchell  burlesqued 
Knickerbocker  by  his  picture  of  New  York.  Walter 
Scott  wrote  Ivanhoe  because  he  had  been  so  limited  to 
Scottish  scenes  in  his  previous  works  that  they  were  often 
called  the  "  Scotch  Novels,"  and  he  wanted  to  show  the 
world  that  he  could  handle  other  subjects  with  equal  mas- 
tery. The  Lay  of  the  Last  Minstrel,  on  the  other  hand, 
sprang  from  the  request  of  a  lady  who  hearing  a  border 
legend  asked  Scott  to  make  it  the  theme  of  a  ballad.  The 
latter,  when  begun,  led  to  the  poem  which  was  its  author's 
lirst  great  effort  of  the  kind. 


Book  Making.  35 

Pursuing  this  theme  a  little  further  I  find  that  Scott 
was  indebted  for  one  of  his  most  popular  characters  to  a 
friend  who  called  on  liim  and  their  conversation  included 
a  reference  to  Dundee.  "  Might  he  not,"  said  the  friend, 
"  be  made  the  hero  of  a  national  romance,  and  what  if  the 
story  be  delivered  as  from  the  mouth  of  Old  Mortalit}^ 
would  he  not  do  as  well  as  the  Minstrel  did  in  the  Lay?" 
Acting  on  this  hint  Scott  produced  that  admirable  romance 
in  which  this  cliaracter  is  so  prominent.  Jedediah  Cleish- 
botham,  whose  name  appears  in  the  Tales  of  My  Landlord, 
was  derived  from  a  school  master  who  was  proverbially 
called  Clashbottom  from  the  severity  with  which  he  plied 
the  birch.  Tom  Moore  says  that  Scott  told  him  that  the 
Heart  of  Mid  Lothian  was  suggested  by  an  anonymous 
letter  whose  author  he  never  discovered.  It  gave  suffi- 
cient facts  to  encourage  him  to  attempt  what  proved  a 
very  successful  book.  Miss  Mitford's  admirable  series  of 
sketches  called  Our  Village  was  suggested  by  Irving's 
Sketch  Book. 

De  Quincey  wrote  the  Confessions  of  an  English  Opium 
Eater  to  illustrate  the  horrors  of  that  evil  habit,  just  as 
Thomson  wrote  the  Castle  of  Indolence  in  order  to  show 
the  curse  on  slothfulness.  The  Confessions  made  a  tre- 
mendous sensation  and  contain  some  of  the  finest  pen 
pictures  in  our  language. 

Dickens  wrote  Oliver  Twist  in  order  to  expose  the 
abuses  of  the  pauper  system,  and  he  also  wrote  Bleak 
House  as  an  exposure  of  the  ruinous  delay  of  the  Court 
of  Chancery.  He  was  almost  the  only  first-class  British 
novelist  that  made  his  pen  subserve  reform.  Dr.  Johnson 
wrote  Rasselas  to  earn  money  to  pay  for  his  mother's 
funeral.  Boswell  says  it  was  written  in  the  evenings  of 
one  week.  Campbell  told  a  friend  that  he  found  the 
much  admired  couplet  in  the  Pleasures  of  Hope, 


36  Our  Book. 

And  waft  across  the  waves'  tumultuous  roar, 
The  wolf's  long  howl  from  Oonlaskai's  shore, 

in  a  poem  called  tlie  Sentimental  Sailor,  now  extinct.  It 
certainly  suggests  desolation  more  vividly  than  any  otlier 
couplet  in  onr  language,  and  shows  what  gems  occasion- 
ally occur  in  ephemeral  productions. 

To  return  to  Scott,  it  may  be  mentioned  as  a  point  of 
literary  interest  tliat  he  claimed  the  right  to  deny  the 
authorship  of  the  Waverley  novels.  Indeed  in  1815,  when 
the  literary  world  was  so  excited  concerning  "  the  great 
unknown,"  he  wrote  thus  to  John  Murray,  who  had 
credited  him  with  Tales  of  My  Landlord  :  "  I  assure  you 
that  I  never  read  a  volume  of  them  until  they  were 
printed."  True,  he  had  not  read  them  in  their  published 
shape  but  he  does  not  say  he  had  not  read  them  in  MSS. 

Scott's  position  is  thus  expressed  in  his  own  words,  "he 
who  is  not  disposed  to  own  a  work  must  necessarily  deny 
it  —  otherwise  his  secret  would  be  at  the  mercy  of  all 
who  chose  to  ask  the  question,  since  silence  must  always 
pass  for  assent."  Cowper's  best  poem  was  called  The 
Task,  because  it  was  done  in  obedience  to  the  request  of 
a  dear  friend.  It  does  not  appear  that  the  ancient  poets 
gave  names  to  their  works.  Did  Homer  issue  his  im- 
mortal epic  as  the  Iliad  —  or  did  Yirgil  call  his  best 
production  the  ^neid  ?  No ;  these  names  were  ap- 
plied by  others.  Such  authors  indeed,  cared  little  for 
book  titles.  They  simply  gave  an  initiatory  idea,  such  as 
the  "Wrath  of  Achilles,  with  which  Homer  begins. 

Virgil  announces  Arms  and  the  Man.  They  no  more 
thought  of  giving  their  works  a  name  than  Cheops  did  of 
naming  his  pyramid.  Names,  however,  are  very  import- 
ant since  they  often  awaken  interest,  and  it  is  very  remark- 
able how  authors  are  led  in  this  choice.  Scott  says  he  got 
Ivanhoe  from  an  old  song  which  refers  to  three  estates : 


Book  Making.  37 

"Trig,  Rig  and  Ivanlioe  , 

These  tluee  did  Johu  forego. 
For  striking  but  a  single  blow, 
And  glad  lie  was  to  be  let  off  so." 

Keference  was  thus  made  to  the  insult  offered  to  one 

of  the  royal  family,  and  this  case  may  also  be  mentioned 

as  the,  heaviest  damages  ever  paid  for  assault  and  battery. 

Scott's  attention  was  ai-rested  by  the  name  which  proved 

a  very  fortunate  selection.     Book  histories  often  reveal 

the  power  wliich  grief  has  exercised  on  literature.     In 

addition  to  the  crowd  of  elegies  and  monodies  there  is 

Milton's  grand  lament  over  Lycidas,  while  Tennyson's  In 

Memoriam,  which  some  consider  his  best  poem,  was  also 

occasioned  by  the  death  of  a  dear  friend.     Bryant  also 

says  of  his  translation  of   Homer  —  which  really  is  his 

greatest  work,  "  it  helped  in  some  measure  to  divert  me 

from  a  great  domestic  sorrow."     He  referred  to  the  death 

of  his  wife,  by  whose  side  he  was  soon  laid  to  rest.     How 

much  this  reminds  one  of  Pope's  beautiful  lines  : 

Poets  themselves  must  fall,  like  tliose  they  sung, 
Deaf  the  praised  ear  and  mute  the  tuneful  tongue; 
E'en  he  whose  soul  now  melts  in  mournful  lays, 
Shall  shortly  want  the  generous  tear  he  pays. 

A  still  more  striking  instance  is  found  in  Queen  Yic- 
toria,  who  was  led,  by  the  loss  of  the  Prince  Consort,  to 
write  a  book  in  which  she  found  solace  by  recalling  the 
scenes  of  the  liappiest  conjugal  life  in  the  entire  records 
of  royalty. 

Even  the  yEiiead  opens  with  sorrow,  and  the  Iliad 
closes  with  a  lament  over  the  mighty  dead. 

Sufferings  of  Authors. 

I  have  said  that  books  are  brain-children,  and  hence 
authors  must  expect  parental  sufferings.  Who  can  see 
with  indifference  his  son  kicked  and  cuffed  in  public? 
Well,  is  it  much  better  to  see  your  darhng  volume  mis- 


38  Our  Book. 

represented  and  perhaps  vilified  in  the  papers  ?  Jnst  as 
some  people  have  gone  broken  hearted  over  the  misfor- 
tunes of  their  children,  so  authors  have  been  broken- 
hearted by  the  misfortunes  of  their  books  —  aye  and  died 
of  it  too !  What  killed  John  Keats  ?  What  killed  Henry 
Kirke  White?  Some  of  ray  readers  will  anticipate  my 
reply — abuse  of  their  brain-children.  The  latter  were 
slaughtered  cruelly  by  the  critics.  "  Wherever  I  go," 
said  White,  "  that  review  follows  me."  It  followed  him 
to  the  grave. 

A  modern  writer  describes  Charlotte  Bronte,  reading 
in  silence  a  critique  of  the  London  Times  on  one  of  her 
novels  and  stifling  her  emotions,  while  tears  of  agony  ran 
down  her  cheeks.  It  was  a  critic's  attack  on  Byron's 
maiden  volume  which  awoke  the  poet's  genius  as  well  as 
his  wrath.  If  the  critic  had  given  the  author  a  horse  whip- 
ping it  would  not  have  been  so  unbearable  as  the  assault 
on  the  first  production  of  his  intellect. 

Trying,  however,  as  it  may  be,  authors  must  expect 
just  such  treatment.  They  must  acquire  an  habitual 
toughness,  and  they  will  find  an  example  in  such  a  man 
as  Pope,  who  was  fearfully  assailed  by  the  petty  scrib- 
blers of  his  day.     lie  saj's  of  himself: 

"Did  some  more  sober  critic  come  abroad, 
If  wrong  I  smiled,  if  riglit  I  kissed  the  rod.'' 

Scott  made  up  his  mind,  when  he  entered  the  profes- 
sion of  literature,  to  read  no  criticisms  and  pay  no  atten- 
tion to  praise  or  censure,  and  if  he  had  adhered  to  this 
rule  it  would  have  saved  him  a  great  deal  of  trouble. 

Literary  Reward. 

Money  is  highly  desirable  and  authors  have  a  right  to 
expect  it,  and  yet  the  best  writers  have  received  the  least. 
Those  who  properly  pursue  literature  find  it  to  be  its  own 


Book  Making.  39 

exceeding  great  reward.  Hence  the  author  of  a  book 
wliich  proves  a  pecuniary  faihire  may  derive  a  benefit 
which  is  a  real  though  imperfect  compensation.  This 
idea  is  thus  quaintly  expressed  by  Montaigne  :  "  Though 
nobody  should  read  me,  have  I  lost  my  time  in  entertain- 
ing myself  in  pleasing  and  useful  thought  ? "  Byron 
said  of  the  Bride  of  Abydos  it  "was  written  in  four  nights  to 

distract  my  dreams  of .     Had  I  not  done  something 

at  that  time  I  must  have  gone  mad.  Whether  it  succeeds 
or  not  is  no  fault  of  the  jjublic.  I  am  much  more  indebted 
to  the  tale  than  I  can  be  to  the  most  partial  reader." 

It  is  highly  probable  that  Shakespeare  found  himself 
well  repaid  by  the  delight  of  giving  scope  to  his  genius, 
and  neither  he,  nor  Milton,  nor  Bunyan  ever  dreamed  of 
pecuniary  reward.  Even  Addison  never  earned  any  thing 
by  his  pen,  and  Pope  was  really  the  first  British  author 
who  made  literature  a  profitable  profession.  In  this 
point,  indeed  Pope  stood  alone  among  all  the  writers  of 
the  first  half  of  the  eighteenth  century.  Even  Johnson 
in  the  midst  of  his  fame  made  but  a  scant  living  by  his 
pen,  and  his  support  was  in  no  small  degree  due  to  his 
pension.  Genius  must  always  work  out  its  own  develop- 
ment, even  though,  as  in  the  case  of  Chatterton  its  fate 
be  famine  and  despair.  Coming  to  our  own  country,  it 
may  be  added  that  during  the  first  century  and  three- 
quarters  of  its  existence  no  one  made  any  thing  out  of 
authorship.  Charles  Brockden  Brown  was  the  first  writer 
who  cleared  a  profit,  and  this  was  very  small.  He  wrote 
to  a  friend  as  follows :  "  Book  making  is  the  dullest  of 
trades,  and  the  most  that  an  American  can  look  for  in  his 
native  country  is  to  be  reimbursed  for  his  unavoidable 
expenses."  Brown  was  the  earhest  American  novelist, 
and  held  high  rank  in  his  day,  but  is  now  almost  for- 
gotten. 


40  Wealth  \nd  Authorship. 

The  poverty  of  authors  is  not  without  marked  excep- 
tions, and  one  of  the  most  striking  combinations  of  wealth 
and  literature  was  found  in  Rogers,  the  poet  banker  of 
London.  His  works,  though  but  little  read  at  present, 
were  at  one  time  in  vogue  among  the  better  class  of 
British  society,  and  his  wealth  enabled  him  to  publish  in 
the  most  splendid  style.  It  was  to  rival  this  elegance  that 
Campbell  made  such  an  effort  to  issue  an  illustrated  edition 
of  liis  own  works  as  the  closing  labor  of  his  hfe.  Rogers 
was  the  richest  author  in  the  entire  record  of  British  litera- 
ture, but  in  this  point  Waldorf  Astor  ranks  him.  William 
Beckford,  author  of  Yathek,  was  anotlier  rich  litera- 
teur.  He  inherited  an  immense  fortune,  and  invested  a 
sum  equal  to  $2,000,000  in  the  Fonthill  estate.  The 
grand  tower,  w-liich  was  260  feet  high,  fell  a  few  years 
after  its  erection,  and  the  whole  place  eventually  went  to 
ruin.  Beckford's  last  literary  work  is  Yathek,  which 
made  a  sensation  at  the  time,  but  is  now  almost  forgotten. 

Going  a  little  further  back  one  meets  Horace  Walpole, 
the  wealthy  dilletuuti,  who  maintained  a  private  printing 
press,  and  rendered  Strawberry  hill  so  famous  for  its 
collection  of  literary  curiosities.  His  principal  work  was 
the  "  Castle  of  Otranto,"  which,  being  full  of  horrors, 
eventually  led  to  the  harrowing  spectre-haunted  school 
of  romance."  Walpole  was  a  very  clever  writer,  and 
had  he  not  been  encumbered  with  wealth,  might  have 
won  an  enduring  name  in  the  literary  world.  In  later 
da^'s  the  Earl  of  Carlisle  made  an  attempt  at  authorship, 
but  it  was  a  failure,  and  would  now  be  forgotten  had  not 
Byron  embalmed  him  in  his  early  satire.  Byron  un- 
kindly applied  to  the  noble  author  Pope's  caustic  lines, 
italicizing  one  word  in  the  foH owing  manner  : 

"What  can  ennoble  knaves  or  fools  or  cowards? 
Alas!  not  all  the  blood  of  all  the  Howards," 


Book  Making.  41 

Anotlier  iiobleinaii  (the  Earl  of  Derby)  has  recently 
given  the  world  a  translation  of  Homer,  which,  however, 
is  no  improvement  on  other  efforts  of  the  same  kind. 
Lord  Surrey  was  the  chief  j)oet  among  the  British  aris- 
tocracy until  the  appearance  of  Byron,  whose  literary 
distinction  is  far  greater  than  that  of  mere  birth.  As  a 
member  of  the  peerage  he  would  soon  have  been  forgot- 
ten, but  as  the  author  of  Childe  Harold  he  has  now  greater 
fame  than  any  other  poet  of  his  age.  Even  at  the  pres- 
ent day  the  sale  of  Byron's  works  exceeds  that  of  the 
entire  aggregate  of  contemporary  British  poets,  and  is 
only  equalled  by  Tennyson.  It  may  be  mentioned  as  a 
peculiar  feature  in  Byron  that  as  he  advanced  in  literary 
labor  he  became  more  indifferent  to  the  distinction  of 
birth.  In  his  first  production,  for  instance,  he  speaks  of 
himself  as  a  nobleman,  but  in  his  last  he  makes  the  Brit- 
ish nobility  the  object  of  his  keenest  satire.  He  had 
learned  that  genius  had  a  rank  higher  than  that  of  mere 
blood,  and  that  a  place  in  the  catalogue  of  high-born 
authors  was  small  ambition  for  one  avIio  felt  the  power  of 
true  inspiration. 

Rich  American  Acthors, 
The  number  of  rich  Americans  who  have  ventured 
into  authorship  is  small,  and  their  success  has  not  been 
of  an  encouraging  character.  Charles  Astor  Bristed 
became  known  by  the  pen  name  of  Carl  BensoHj  but  his 
Five  Years  at  an  University  was  hardly  a  creditable 
work.  Prescott,  however,  was  rich  before  lie  began  his 
liistory  and,  indeed,  had  not  this  been  the  case  he  could 
not  have  accomplished  the  work.  Samuel  Ward,  who 
did  some  clever  things  in  literature,  inherited  a  fortune 
from  his  father,  who  was  one  of  the  banking  firm  of 
Prime,  Ward  &  King,  but  he  never  fulfilled  the  promise 
6 


42  Our  Book. 

of  his  joutb.  Wald(^rf  Astor  is  the  richest  of  American 
literateurs,  but  his  Valentino  proved  a  failure  and  from 
these  facts  it  is  evident  that  great  wealth  is  not  favorable 
to  the  development  of  genius, 

Pecdliar  Books. 

This  is  a  large  class  (mostly  out  of  print  and  only  known 
to  book  students)  among  which  Zeluco  is  prominent.  It 
is  a  tale  intended  to  portray  a  man  destitute  of  a  moral 
nature,  cruel  and  per  lid  ions,  and  yet  its  author  was  a 
philanthropic  physician  and  father  of  the  general  of  whose 
burial  it  is  said  "  not  a  drum  was  heard,  nor  a  funeral 
note."  Another  peculiar  story,  though  entirely  different, 
is  Margaret  by  Sylvester  Judd  which  holds  high  rank  in 
American  fiction.  Melmoth  the  Wanderer  by  Maturin 
was  once  widely  read,  and  its  description  of  the  efforts 
made  by  a  man  who  has  sold  his  soul  to  the  devil  to  es- 
cape the  consequences,  is  indeed  thrilling.  Another  is 
St.  Leon  by  William  Godwin — the  autobiography  of 
one  who  has  reached  innnortalitv  by  occult  science  —  also 
Frankenstein  by  Mrs.  Shelley  (Godwhi's  daughter)  which 
is  the  strangest  book  ever  written  by  a  woman.  Such 
books  are  occasionally  called  for  at  the  Astor  whose  lofty 
dome  and  crowded  alcoves  sometimes  seem  like  a  literary 
cosmos.  The  pressure  of  brain  work  and  research  sug- 
gested here  is  crushing;.  Here  are  thousands  of  books  of 
which  I  have  never  heard,  and  it  is  enough  to  bewilder 
one  to  look  over  the  catalogue.  At  such  times  I  feel  the 
need  of  communion  with  nature  and  recall  the  lessons  af- 
forded by  Wordsworth.  The  best  students  and  literor 
teurs  combined  city  and  rural  advantages. 

Gibbon  wrote  much  of  his  great  history  in  a  room 
which  commanded  a  view  both  of  Lake  Leman  and  the 
mountains  of  Savoy.     Irving  did  his  life  work  at  Sunny- 


Book  Making.  43 

side,  and  Scott  passed  his  best  days  in  the  valley  of  the 
Tweed.  The  students  and  Uterateurs  of  New  York  need 
some  such  suburban  advantages,  but  the  privation  must 
be  patiently  endured.  Pope  never  could  have  boasted  of 
his  grotto  at  Twickenham  had  he  not  been  the  best  paid 
author  of  the  eighteenth  century. 

Bohemian  Lifk. 

There  arc  few  more  striking  contrasts  in  social  life  than 
that  exhibited  by  the  elegant  leisure  of  a  rich  literateur 
surrounded  by  books  and  all  the  luxury  of  a  cultured 
taste,  and  the  grim  poverty  of  a  bohemian  \vho  writes 
merely  for  bread.  Such  a  man  knows  not  what  leisure 
means.  lie  snatches  at  subjects  with  a  death  grip  and 
drives  his  quill  with  all  the  energy  insj^ired  by  necessity. 
He  will  write  rapidly  and  often  elegantly,  on  all  themes 
which  may  serve  the  market.  He  is  a  critic,  paragraphist, 
essayist,  historian,  serjnonizer,  writer  of  tales,  advertise- 
ments, or  any  thing  else  that  may  be  required. 

He  is  a  visitor  at  a  dozen  offices,  in  each  of  wJiich  he 
is  offering  some  article  whose  rejection  is  one  of  the 
things  he  has  got  used  to.  He  has  the  run  of  all  the 
magazines  and  may  get  two  or  three  articles  published  in 
a  year  out  of  a  score  that  are  offered.  He  might  be  driven 
to  despair  were  it  of  any  use,  but  ho  has  learned  that  the 
only  way  is  to  endure. 

Ail  the  managing  editors  will  recognize  this  picture  in 
a  group  of  men  who  driven  by  poverty,  are  urging  arti- 
cles into  columns  which  are  already  crowded. 

Such  are  some  of  the  dark  features  of  literary  life. 
They  are  not  confined  to  America.  I  may  quote  the  im- 
pressive words  of  Hugh  Miller — himself  once  an  ob- 
scure and  struggling  genius.  "  I  remembered,"  said  he, 
"  in  crossing  Westminster  bridge  that  the  poet  Crabbe 


44  Our  Book. 

walked  on  it  all  night  when  in  distress  and  his  last  shilling 
expended.  Here  it  was  that  Otway  perished  of  hunger 
and  Cbattcrton  hy  suicide.  And  tliese  were  the  very 
streets  where  Kichard  Savage  and  Samuel  Johnson  had 
so  often  walked  from  midnight  to  morning  having  no 
roof  under  which  to  find  shelter." 

Speaking  of  bohemians  and  journalists  it  is  worthy  of 
note  that  one  of  the  best  descriptions  ever  given  of  a 
newspaper  office  by  any  writer  in  advance  of  history,  is 
afforded  by  Pope  in  the  Temple  of  Fame  : 

''  Tliere  various  news  I  lioard  of  love  and  strife, 
Of  peace  and  war,  lu-alth,  sickness,  death  and  life, 
Of  loss  and  gain,  of  famine  and  of  store, 
Of  storms  at  sea  and  travels  on  tlic  siiore, 
Of  ))rodigies  and  portents  seen  in  air, 
Of  fires  and  ])lagucs,  and  stars  witli  blazing  hair, 
Of  turns  of  fortune,  clianges  in  tlie  state, 
The  falls  of  favorites,   ])rojects  of  the  great, 
Of  old  mismanagements,  taxation  new, 
All  neither  wholly  false,  nor  wholly  true." 

The  author  of  the  above  lines  certainly  had  a  correct 
idea  of  M-hat  a  newsjmper  ought  to  he,  and  though  lie 
does  not  aim  in  tliis  sketch  to  descril)C  one,  yet  nothing 
else  will  answer  to  the  picture  he  has  drawn. 

Savage. 
There  are  some  points  in  the  life  of  Hichard  Savage 
which  arc  M'orthy  of  mention,  in  addition  to  the  mystery 
of  his  origin,  lie  was  the  early  companion  of  Johnson, 
sharing  his  dee]>est  misery,  and  the  friendship  formed 
under  such  painful  conditions  was  of  an  enduring  char- 
acter, Johnson  says  they  often  walked  the  streets  of  Lon- 
don together  —  hungry  and  homeless.  Sa^•age  was  the 
first  poet  whose  life  was  written,  and  this  may  be  con- 
sidered the  beginning  of  literary  biography.  Johnson 
wrote  it  under  the  intensity  of  friendship,  and  it  is  there- 
fore the  best  of  all  bis  productions.     Savage  has  gone  to 


Book  Making.  45 

oblivion  and  yet  he  wrote  at  least  one  couplet  of  impres- 
sive character: 

"On  earth  success  must  in  its  turn  give  way 
And  e'en  perfection  introduce  decay." 

The  above  is  one  of  the  deepest  utterances  of  a  reflect- 
ive mind.  Savage  is  the  first  poet  that  describes  tooth- 
ache and  though  Bums  wrote  a  few  painful  verses  on 
the  same  subject  they  are  far  inferior  to  the  followiug 
picture  of  dental  agony  : 

"A  tooth's  minutest  nerve  let  anguish  seize 
Swift  kindred  fibies  catcli  — so  frail  our  ease  — 
Pinched,  pierced  and  torn,  inflamed  and  uuassuaged, 
Tliey  smart  and  swell  and  throb  and  shoot  enraged, 
From  nerve  to  nerve  fierce  flies  tlie  exulting  pain. 
And  are  we  of  this  mighty  fabric  vain." 

Savage  died  in  Bristol  jail  in  his  forty-sixth  year,  being 

under  arrest  for  debt.     He  had  enjoyed  the  patronage  of 

Lord  Tyrconnel,  but  lost  it  through  reckless  indifference 

to  the  proprieties  of  life.     His  death  occurred  in  1743, 

and  as  Johnson  published  his  Vanity  of  Human  Wishes 

soon  afterward,  I  have  sometimes  thought  that  Savage's 

miserable  end  suggested  the  following  painful  picture : 

*'  But  see  what  ills  the  scholar's  life  assail, 
Toil,  envy,  want  —  the  pat ro/i  and  tlie  joAl.'''' 

PUBLISUERS  AND  AuTHORS. 

Publishers  have  occasionally  been  iminortalized  by  their 
authors.  We  should  have  heard  nothing  of  Jacob  Ton- 
son  or  of  Lintot,  had  it  not  been  for  Addison  and  Pope. 
The  former  published  the  Spectator,  and  the  latter  the 
works  of  Pope,  who  was  the  only  author  of  his  day  that 
made  literature  profitable.  Coming  down  to  a  later  age, 
John  Murray  is  eml)alined  by  Byron,  who  formed  a  close 
friendship  for  his  publisher,  and  made  him  the  subject  of 
gomebrief  poems,  which  have  redeemed  him  from  oblivion. 

Junius   both    enriched    and    immortalized  Woodfall, 


46  Our  Book. 

and  this  is  tlie  only  instance  of  a  writer  benefiting 
liis  publisher  without  receiving  even  the  smallest  share. 
Woodfall  incurred  heavy  risks  in  this  publication,  but  the 
sales  of  his  paper,  and  also  of  the  letters  in  book  form, 
were  sufficient  remuneration.  He  offered  to  divide  the 
profits  with  his  anonymous  contributor ;  but  the  latter 
generously  declined,  and  advised  the  publisher  to  make  all 
he  could  out  of  them  — adding,  in  very  sensible  manner, 
that  "  without  a  competency  a  man  could  not  be  happy, 
or  hardly  honest." 

"Walter  Scott  has  given  enduring  distinction  to  his 
publishers,  whose  slip-shod  method  of  doing  business 
resulted  in  their  common  ruin.  The  Bannatynes  will 
always  be  remembered  as  long  as  Scott,  and  so  will 
Constable  —  the  latter  having  also  been  one  of  his  pub- 
lishers. It  is  a  remarkable  feature  in  Scott's^  character 
that  the  failure  of  the  Bannatynes  did  not  occasion  any 
breacli  of  previous  friendship.  He  always  spoke  kindly 
of  them,  although  their  failure  had  wrecked  his  fortune 
and  blasted  the  hopes  of  a  life-time.  Irving  owed  much 
of  his  success  to  Putnam,  who  became  distinguished  as 
the  publisher  of  the  most  popular  American  author. 

One  of  the  most  worthy  of  the  book  publishers  of  his 
day  was  Joseph  Cottle,  of  Bristol.  Byron  ridiculed  his 
brother  Amos  in  English  Bards  and  Scotch  Reviewers, 
whose  readers  may  thus  be  prejudiced.  Cottle  had  a  ten- 
derness in  dealing  with  authors  which  is  seldom  found  in 
the  trade.  He  published  for  Southey,  Wordsworth,  Han- 
nah Moore  and  Coleridge,  and  was  alwaj's  proud  of  his 
connection  with  this  galaxy  of  genius.  How  patiently 
he  bore  with  the  faithless  and  irresponsible  Coleridge! 
IIow  generously  he  paid  Southey  for  his  cumbrous  epics ! 
Cottle  was  a  prince  in  his  line,  and  his  name  is  an  honor 
to  the  trade,    Bristol  should  always  revere  his  memory. 


Alone  in  Afkica.  47 

Such  is  the  sad  distinction  of  one  of  the  most  gifted 
writers  of  her  day,  and  L.  E.  L.  is  the  only  poet  that 
found  a  grave  in  the  dark  continent.  What  painful 
associations,  indeed,  cloud  the  history  of  Letitia  Eliza- 
beth Landon,  who  won  such  admiration,  and,  alas,  awoke 
such  jealousy  !  A.  baseless  scandal  crushed  her  youth, 
and  led  her,  after  acliieving  a  name  in  literature,  to 
accept  a  husband  so  unworthy  of  her  that  the  marriage 
was  only  a  legal  sacrifice.  Then  came  the  contrast 
between  the  intellectual  circles  of  London  and  the  deso- 
lation of  life  in  a  lonely  castle  on  the  African  coast  — 
subjected  to  marital  indifference  and  the  treachery  of 
the  native  attendants — until  sudden  death  and  a  soli- 
tary grave  closes  the  scene.  The  vein  of  tender  and 
pensive  emotion  which  characterizes  her  poetry  awoke 
the  admiration  of  Whittier  {vide,  page  70),  and  gives 
her  enduring  power  over  all  kindred  spirits. 

Kick  Copyrights. 

It  is  a  remarkable  fact  in  literary  history  that  three 
authors,  each  the  greatest  of  his  native  land,  Dickens, 
Scott  and  Irving,  should  each  die  in  possession  of  the 
copyrights  of  his  works.  Irving  and  Dickens  were  sole 
proprietors,  but  in  the  case  of  Scott,  who  Avas  bankrupt, 
possession  was  conceded  by  his  creditors,  and  the  author 
granted  Cadell  one-half  interest  in  this  property.  The 
price  fixed  for  the  copyrights,  from  Waverley  to  Quentin 
Durward,  was  £8,500. 

Four  years  previously  Scott  had,  while  nnder  a  severe 
pressure,  sold  the  copyrights  of  seven  of  his  best  novels 
and  eight  of  his  poems  for  £12,000  ;  but  Constable,  who 
bought  them,  failed  in  business,  and  they  were  sold  at  auc- 
tion in  1827,  when  Scott  was  permitted  to  purchase  them. 


4S  Our  Book. 

Taking  into  consideration  the  diHerence  between  tlie 
value  of  money,  the  sum  of  £8,500  must  be  estimated  at 
$80,000.  This,  as  it  must  be  remembered,  was  not  for 
any  new  works,  but  for  a  series  of  novels  which  began 
seventeen  years  previously,  and  which  had  yielded  enor- 
mous profits. 

Scott  earned  nearly  a  half  million  of  dollars  during  his 
literary  career,  which  lasted  twenty -six  years,  and  had  he 
not  been  involved  in  the  ruin  of  the  Bannatyne  concern 
he  would  have  been  the  richest  literateur  the  world  had 
ever  seen. 

Dickens,  like  Scott,  disposed  of  liis  copyrights  and  then 
obtained  them  by  purchase,  paying  for  each  a  large  ad- 
vance. This  recovery  was  gradual,  and  when  he  became 
the  sole  owner  of  his  works  he  was  in  receipt  of  an  in- 
come which  would  have  surprised  even  the  author  of 
Waverley.  This  is  shown  by  the  fact  that  a  literary  career 
of  thirty-four  years  enabled  him  not  only  to  live  in  hand- 
some style  at  Gad's  Hill,  but  also  to  leave  a  fortune  of 
£80,000,  which  is  equal  to  ijearly  a  half  million  of  dollars. 

Irving  never  disposed  of   his  copyrights,  at  least  in 

America.     He  sold  tlie  privilege  of  publication  in  Eng 

land,  but  being  an  American,  he  could  obtain  a  copyright 

at  home. 

Unfinished  Works. 

The  failure  of  literary  enterprises  seems  the  more  pain- 
ful when  the  author's  hand  is  paralyzed  by  death,  leaving 
some  important  task  unfinished.  Milton  seems  to  have 
been  much  grieved  over  the  fragment  which  Chaucer  left 
of  what  should  have  been  a  fine  poem  and  hence  he  exclaims: 

•'  Call  him  up  wlio  left  half  told 
The  story  of  Cambuscaii  bold." 

No  one,  however,  can  assume  the  spirit  and  enthusiasm 
of  an  author,  and  for  this  reason,  unfinished  works  defy 


Book  Making.  49 

all  supplementary  effort.  Hence  those  who  liave  been 
engaged  in  great  literary  tasks  liave  felt  anxious  to  live 
fur  their  completion.  Such  was  the  case  of  Gibbon,  who 
spent  twenty  years  on  the  Decline  and  Fali.  Having 
enjoyed  its  first  success,  and  having  also  silenced  his 
antagonists,  he  soon  afterw^ard  died. 

Irving  felt  anxious  lest  he  should  be  unable  to  finish 
liis  life  of  Washington.  He  was,  however,  permitted  to 
do  this,  l)ut  died  within  six  months  from  its  completion. 
He  was  then  seventy-six.  Bancroft  was  thirty-four  when 
he  began  his  great  national  history,  and  seventy-four  when 
the  twelfth  and  last  volume  appeared.  Ten  years  later 
he  issued  a  revised  edition,  being  then  (at  eighty-four)  the 
oldest  historian  in  the  entire  record. 

Macaulay  beg;m  his  history  of  England  at  forty-seven 
and  continued  it  until  his  death,  which  occurred  twelve 
years  afterward.  As  in  the  case  of  Irving,  it  was  com- 
pleted only  a  few  months  before  his  end.  Pollok,  who 
died  in  his  twenty-ninth  year,  also  saw  his  ])oem  —  The 
Course  of  Time  —  published.  It  was  the  great  ambition 
of  this  noble  young  man  to  behold  his  work  in  print,  and 
the  six  months  which  elapsed  between  its  issue  and  his 
death  gave  him  the  assurance  of  its  jocrmanent  success. 

BosM'ell,  who  was  seven  years  writing  his  lite  of  John- 
son, lived  only  four  years  after  publication,  and  as  he 
himself  acknowledges,  was  highly  elated  with  its  rapid 
sale.  These  instances  might  be  called  narrow  escapes 
from  the  risk,  but  on  the  other  hand  Dickens  left  Edwin 
Drood  unfinished,  and  this  also  was  the  case  with  Cole- 
ridge's Christabel,  which  is  so  fascinating  that  the  reader 
is  much  annoyed  by  the  sudden  break  at  its  close. 

Horace  Walj)ole  attempted  a  quarto  edition  of  his 
works,  but  death  interfered  with  its  j)rogress,  and  it 
remains  unfinished,  but  this,  however  is  no  great  loss. 
7 


50  Odr  Book. 

Goldsmith  never  completed  his  life  of  Voltaire,  and 
Hawthorne  left  the  Dolliver  romance  unfinished,  while 
the  unfortunate  Keats  gives  us,  in  Hyperion,  the  promise 
of  a  poem  which  never  was  fultilled, 

Matthew  Henry  was  engnged  for  many  years  in  his 
exposition  of  the  Scriptures,  but  he  left  it  untinished,  and 
other  hands  assumed  as  far  as  possible,  the  purpose  of  the 
author.  He  died  at  fifty-two,  his  task  liaving  reached  no 
further  than  the  clofO  of  the  "  Acts  of  the  Apostles." 
Doddridge  hardly  hved  as  long  as  Henry,  and  hence  con- 
sidered it  a  special  mercy  that  he  finished  his  Expositor, 
but  he  did  not  live  to  see  it  in  print.  Sir  Philip  Sydney, 
who  died  when  only  thirty -two,  left  his  Arcadia  unlin- 
ished,  and  this  accounts  for  its  numerous  defects. 

After-dinnek  Speecues. 
The  most  remarkable  in  fiction  is  /Eneas'  thrilling  de- 
scription of  the  fall  of  Troy  and  his  strange  adventures, 
wliich  fills  two  magnificent  books  of  the  ^neid.  In  point 
of  literary  interest,  however,  the  most  memorable  of  such 
occasions  was  the  dinner  given  in  Edinburgh  in  behalf  of 
the  Actors'  Fund,  where  Scott  for  the  first  time  acknowl- 
edged the  Waverley  Novels.  This  occun-ed  February  2-, 
18"i7,  and  made  a  deej)  sensation  throughout  Euru])e. 
ScottV  health  was  propo-ed  in  a  glowing  speech  by  Lord 
Meadowbank  as  "  the  Great  Unknown,  who  now  stood  re- 
vealed." Scott  made  a  very  neat  reply,  closing  as  follows  : 

I  am  now  at  the  bar  of  my  country  and  am  Avilling  to  plead 
guilty,  nor  shall  I  detain  the  court  by  a  long  explanation  why  my 
confession  has  so  long  been  delayed.  Like  another  Scottish  crim- 
inal of  more  consecjuence  (Macbeth) 

I  am  afraid  to  think  what  I  have  done, 
Look  ou't  again,  I  dare  not. 

I  have  thus  far  unbosomed  myself,  and  I  mean  seriously  to  state 
that  when  I  say  I  am  the  author  I  mean  the  total  and  undivided 
autlior.  *  *  *  "The  wand  is  now  broken  and  the  book  buried." 
You  will  allow  me  further  to  say  with  Prospero,  "it  is  your  breath 
that  has  filled  my  sails." 


Book  Making.  51 

The  scene  was  deeply  affecting,  especially  as  Scott 
brought  in  as  antithesis  to  the  "  Great  Unknown,"  a  pithy 
allusion  to  the  "  now  small  well  known." 

This  acknowledgment  gave  rise  to  a  very  effective 
"gag"  at  the  theatre  a  few  nights  afterward.  Sir  "Walter 
being  present.  The  play  was  High  Life  Below  Stairs, 
and  one  of  the  characters  asked,  "  who  wrote  Shake- 
speare?" The  reply  was,  "Sir  Walter  Scott.  He  con- 
fessed it  at  a  public  meeting  the  other  day." 

Chaeles  Lamb. 

How  rare  it  is  to  see  a  poverty-stricken  clerk  rise  to 
fame!  In  the  case  of  Charles  Lamb  it  was  poverty  ag- 
gravated by  still  worse  calamity.  His  father  reduced  to 
senility — his  sister  an  occasional  lunatic,  and  his  mother 
the  murdered  victim  of  that  sister's  frenzy.  Poor  and 
without  friends  —  a  charity  scholar  and  then  a  clerk,  held 
to  his  desk  six  hours  a  day  and  six  days  in  the  week,  ex- 
cept a  brief  annual  vacation — his  sole  companion  that 
unfortunate  sister,  their  union  being  only  broken  when 
she  was  occasionally  in  the  asylum. 

Very  natural  that  such  a  man,  if  he  had  any  literary 
taste,  should  find  in  literature  a  consolation  —  but  here 
we  see  his  path  strewn  with  difficulties.  His  first  little 
book  of  poems  a  failure.  His  tragedy  (John  Woodvill) 
rejected  when  offered  to  a  manager,  and  his  farce  (Mr.  H.) 
danmed  in  the  most  ruthless  manner.  It  was  well  that 
he  had  a  genial  nature,  which  amid  all  these  difficulties 
found  utterance  (as  in  Elia)  and  thus  cheered  the  clouded 
scenes  of  his  life.  One  of  the  most  striking  features  in 
that  early  poverty  was  the  close  friendship  between  the 
charity  scholars  Lamb  and  Coleridge,  the  latter  being 
"  dear  Col,"  and  into  this  friendship  Wordsworth  was  ad- 


52  Our  Book. 

mitted.     It  was  at  Charles  Lamb's  that  Coleridge  recited 
his  own  poetry  —  as  only  he  could  recite  it. 

Then  we  have  the  gathering  of  genius  on  the  "Wednes- 
day evenings  at  Lamb's  which  made  the  poor  clerk's  rooms 
a  symposium  of  humor  and  literary  conviviality,  and  gave 
him  a  distinction  which  he  will  always  retain.  It  was  a 
darkened  life  at  first,  but  it  is  now  lit  up  by  fame.  If 
Lamb  had  not  been  a  humorist  he  might  have  perished 
like  Chatterton  in  his  early  misery. 

Speaking  of  Lamb's  early  ill  success,  it  is  curious  to  note 
how  many  of  what  are  now  considered  first-class  produc- 
tions were  at  first  unsuccessful.  Here,  for  instance,  is 
the  Ancient  Mariner,  one  of  the  most  wonderful  of  im- 
aginative poems,  and  one  which  has  a  place  in  every  col- 
lection. Reader,  can  you  credit  the  statement  that  when 
first  issued  it  was  a  failure?  It  was  called  a  Poet's 
Revery,  and  formed  a  part  of  Lyrical  Ballads,  a  copart- 
nership volume  made  by  Wordsworth  and  Coleridge,  and 
published  in  Bristol,  because  no  London  house  would  ac- 
cept it. 

Lyrical  Ballads  did  not  sell,  and  Wordsworth  told  the 
publisher  that  the  chief  reason  was  "  that  it  contained 
Coleridge's  poem,  whicli  no  one  seemed  to  understand." 
Motley's  first  volume  was  a  failure  ;  I  refer  to  Morton's 
Hope,  published  by  the  Harpers  in  1839.  Cooper's  first 
novel,  Precaution,  was  also  a  failure. 

Turning  to  Scott,  his  brillant  romance  Waverley,  lay 
unfinished  in  a  drawer  two  years,  having  been  unfavor- 
ably criticised  by  a  friend.  The  manuscript  met  en- 
couragement from  another  reader,  and  the  book  became  a 
great  hit.  Novels  sometimes  do  better  by  a  change  of* 
name.  Bulwer  published  his  grand  romance  of  Zanoni 
first  under  the  title  of  Zicci,  or  the  Secret  Order,  but 
soon   changed   it.      Edgar   A.    Poe  first   published   his 


Book  Making.  53 

stories  with  tlie  title  of  Tales  of  tlie  Grotesque  and  the 
Arabesque,  but  it  was  not  a  taking  name  and  was  after- 
ward dropped.  Hawthorne  republished  the  Marble  Faun 
in  London  under  the  title  of  Transformation,  but  with 
liis  reputation  such  a  change  seems  unnecessary. 

What  a  striking  contrast  between  an  author  and  liis 
books  is  suggested  bj  the  recent  splendid  edition  of  Poe's 
Kaven.  When  that  poem  first  appeared  its  author  was 
leading  a  bohemian  life  in  New  York,  and  was  an  object 
of  general  pity  in  literary  circles.  I  well  remember  the 
birth  of  the  Raven.  It  appeared  in  the  Whig  Review  for 
January,  1S45,  and  though  I  knew  the  latter  was  ephem- 
eral, I  also  knew  that  the  poem  was  immortal.  I  have 
heard  that  Poe  received  $15  for  it,  and  if  so  this  was  all 
that  it  ever  brought  him.  Four  years  afterward  he  died 
in  misery. 

Could  the  unfortunate  author  be  restored  to  life  and 
behold  the  Raven  illustrated  by  the  genius  of  Dore 
and  published  in  such  splendid  style  by  the  Harpers,  he 
might  feel  at  least  that  posterity  had  done  him  justice. 
Another  work  which  Dore  has  illustrated  in  his  best  style 
revives  similar  associations.  I  allude  to  Coleridge's  An- 
cient Mariner,  which  when  first  published,  was  an  utter 
failure,  and  yet  it  eventually  reached  the  highest  rank  in 
literature.  Some  of  Longfellow's  gems  appeared  in  the 
Knickerbocker  which  is  now  forgotten.  Amongthese  were 
the  Psalm  of  Life  and  the  Skeleton  in  Armor.  Charles 
F.  Hoffman  only  wrote  one  thing  which  will  live,  Mon- 
terey, which  is  a  martial  outburst  with  the  ring  of  a 
.  psean.  It  first  appeared  in  Yankee  Doodle,  a  comic  ephem- 
eral, which  only  lived  a  few  weeks. 

In  this  day  of  literary  fecundity  one  may  look  back 
with  surprise  to  the  time  when  an  author  was  identified 
with  his  book.     To  write  a  good  tale  then  gave  a  man  dis- 


54  OuK  Book. 

tinction.  Goldsmith  only  attempted  fiction  in  the  Vicai 
of  Wakefield,  while  his  patron,  Johnson,  lias  given  the 
world  but  one  tale,  Rasselas.  Horace  Walpole  is  the 
Castle  of  Otranto,  Beckford  is  Yatliek,  and  John  Sterling 
is  The  Onyx  Ring.  Gifted  as  these  men  may  have  been, 
they  exhausted  their  invention  each  in  one  literary  eifort. 
The  strange  and  horrible  story  of  the  Yainpire  is 
another  instance,  as  its  author  never  rea})peared  in  any 
other  work,  and  sank  away  to  oblivion  after  creating  a 
brief  sensation  in  the  literary  circles  of  London. 

Book  Names. 

These  often  arise  from  arbitrary  circumstances,  Dick- 
ens says  "  Boz  "  was  a  corruption  of  "  Mose,"  a  pet  name 
for  a  little  brother.  Scott  got  the  best  title  for  a  novel 
by  glancing  at  an  old  triplet  concerning  "  Trigg,  Rigg 
and  Ivanhoe."  The  poem  which  he  first  called  the 
Romance  of  Border  Chivalry  was  published  with  the 
mnch  better  name  of  the  Lay  of  the  Last  Minstrel. 
The  same  author  having  written  a  fine  romance,  was  at 
loss  for  a  suitable  name,  and  his  pul)lisher,  Bannatyne, 
suggested  Rob  Roy,  and  this  ringing  title  aided  its  sale 
prodigiously. 

Some  of  the  most  useful  books  have  grown  out  of  small 

beghinings.     John  Bunyan  tells  us  that  he  did  not  expect 

to  make  a  volume  when  he  began  Pilgrim's  Progress. 

He  says: 

"  When  at  the  first  I  took  1113'  pen  in  hand 
Thus  for  to  write  I  did  not  understand 
That  I  at  all  should  make  a  little  book," 

Few    who    look    at   so    small    a    volume   as   Butler's^ 
Analogy  would  think  it  was  in  the  author's  hands  for 
twenty  years;   Thompson  whose  Seasons  were  so  pop- 
ular,  wrote   Winter  first,  but   it  is  printed  as  the  last 
in  the  series;  Fielding  wrote  Tom   Jones  in   the  brief 


Book  Making.  55 

leisure  which  he  stole  from  the  office  of  police  justice  in 
London.  Never  before  or  since  has  a  police  justice  pro- 
duced a  first  class  novel.  Hyperion  does  not  sound  like 
a  book  of  travels,  and  Longfellow  when  thus  using  it 
displayed  great  ingenuity.  It  is  derived  from  two  Greek 
words,  hyper-eon  —  going  beyond  or  excelling,  and  is, 
therefore,  applied  to  Apollo.  Longfellow  only  meant 
that  he  had  gone  beyond  his  previous  track,  and  it  proved 
a  very  taking  title. 

Speaking  of  book  names  it  seems  very  strange  that 
Byron  first  called  his  greatest  poera"Childe  Buren's 
Pilgrimage."  His  friends  remonstrated,  and  he  then 
chose  its  present  title.  Charles  Lamb,  in  his  sketch  of 
the  Old  South  Sea  House,  says  that  "  Elia "  was  the 
name  "of  a  gay,  light-hearted  foreigner  who  fluttered 
there  "  when  he  wrote  his  first  essay. 

Wordsworth  gave  the  very  inappropriate  name  of  "  the 

Excursion"  to  a  prolix  series  of  scenes  and  meditations, 

but  this  misnomer,  dull  as  it  is  to  most  readers,  contains 

what  DeQuincy  ranks  among  the  finest    things  in  our 

language.     It  is  the  city  seen  in  the  clouds : 

Here  serene  pavilions  bright, 
In  avenues  disposed  —  there  towers  begirt 
With  battlements  tliat  on  their  restless  fronts 
Bore  stars. 

ROWK  AND    DrYDEN. 

Jane  Shore  is  the  only  one  of  Rowe's  plays  that  has 
been  performed  on  the  American  stage,  and  it  recalls  the 
name  of  an  author  who  had  alnu^st  gone  to  oblivion. 
Rowe  died  in  1718,  being  then  forty -five,  and  was  buried 
in  Westminster  Abbey.  He  wrote  a  half  dozen  plays, 
but  none  of  them  ever  held  first  rank.  The  most  that 
jan  be  said  of  Rowe  is  that  he  was  admired  by  Pope,  who 
wrote  his  epitaph.     The  latter  contains  so  pungent  an 


56 

allusion  to  the  neglect  which  Dryden's  grave  had  suffered, 
that  it  led  to  the  immediate  erection  of  a  monument. 
This  incident  connects  these  three  men  in  a  peculiar 
manner,  and  hence  is  interesting  as  a  bit  of  literary  his- 
tory. Dryden  died  in  London  in  1700,  when  Pope  was 
but  twelve.  The  interment  was  in  Westminster  Abbey, 
but  no  memorial  was  erected  and  Pope  felt  keenly  this 
neglect  of  a  brother  poet.  Eighteen  years  afterward 
Pope  M^as  called  to  wn-ite  Howe's  epitaph,  in  which  he 
thus  expresses  his  sense  of  the  neglect  by  which  so  great 
a  genius  Avas  dishonored: 

"Thy  reliijucs  Rowe  to  tliis  fair  uru  we  trust, 
And  sacred  place  by  Dryden's  awful  dust, 
Beneath  a  rude  and  nameless  slab  he  lies, 
To  which  tliy  tomb  shall  guide  enquiring  eyes. 
One  grateful  woman  to  thy  fan)e  supplies 
What  a  whole  thankless  laud  to  his  denies." 

The  contrast  thus  shown  between  the  affection  of 
Howe's  widow  and  the  ingratitude  of  the  nation  aroused 
such  feeling  that  a  monument  was  soon  erected  over 
Dryden's  grave. 

Proof  of  ViTALrrY, 
An  interesting  feature  in  literature  is  found  in  the  hold 
which  some  writers  take  on  common  parlance,  tlius  incor- 
porating their  utterances  in  our  language.  Gray  gives 
us  the  "  bliss  of  ignorance,"  taken  from  his  lines  "  where 
ignorance  is  bliss  'tis  folly  to  be  wise."  His  elegy  also 
has  afforded  some  very  popular  utterances.  Gay  on  the 
other   hand    only    lives  by  a  couplet   in    the    Beggar's 

Opera : 

How  happy  I  could  be  with  either 
Were  t'other  dear  charmer  away. 

Goldsmith,  considering  his  popularity,  is  surprisingly 
deficient  in  this  point,  but  his  scenes  make  up  for  the 
lack.     1  refer  to  "  Moses  going  to  the  fair  "  in  the  Vicar 


Book  Making.  57 

of  Wakefield,  and  the  exquisite  pictures  in  the  De- 
serted Village.  Johnson  gives  us  "not  for  a  day  but 
for  all  time,"  "  to  point  a  moral  and  adorn  a  tale,"  also 
"studious  to  please."  The  latter  occurs  in  tlie  prologue 
to  Irene,  and  how  little  he  thought  it  would  survive 
that  cumbrous  and  artificial  tragedy. 

Pope  ranks  next  to  Shakespeare.  His  bright  things 
are  incorporated  so  extensively  into  common  talk  that 
one  hardly  knows  whence  they  came  until  one  discovers 
them  in  his  poems.  One  of  the  most  common  is  "damn 
with  faint  praise,"  another  is  "the  feast  of  reason  and 
flow  of  the  soul,"  but  I  have  no  space  for  any  more  and 
can  only  refer  the  reader  to  the  original  which  will  well 
repay  careful  and  repeated  perusal.  Addison  has  done 
but  very  little  in  this  line,  but  "  talking  one  to  death  "  is 
in  the  Spectator  and  the  same  idea  is  repeated  both  by 
Pope  and  Johnson. 

Some  of  the  old  classics  have  contributed  to  the  say- 
ings of  the  present  day  and  Homer  bids  us  "  welcome  the 
coming  and  speed  the  parting  guest,"  while  "  thunder  out 
of  a  clear  sky  "  comes  from  Horace  and  we  are  indebted 
to  Yirgil  for  the  oft-quoted  '■'■facilis  descensus  AvernV^ — 
also  for  that  noble  expression  of  sympathy  with  which 
Dido  welcomes  ^neas.  To  these  are  to  be  added  Caesar's 
"  veni  vidi  vici  "  and  Constantino's  "  in  hoc  signo  vinces^ 
"  Strike  but  hear  "  is  also  an  ancient  utterance.  Coming 
down  to  modern  writers  Blair's  Grave  gives  us  "  the 
better  half  "  and  also  "  angel's  visits  few  and  far  between," 
which  one  also  finds  in  Campbell. 

Bishop  Berkeley  would  long  since  have  been  forgotten 
had  he  not  written  that  hackneyed  line  "  Westward  the 
course  of  Empire  takes  its  way,"  and  Thomson  of  the 
Seasons  gives  us  "teach  the  young  idea  how  to  shoot," 
also  "  kilhng  time,"  which  is  found  in  the  Castle  of  Indo- 


68  Our  Book. 

lence.  Young  of  the  Kight  Thoughts  and  also  the  satirist, 
gave  the  world  many  living  utterances,  and  Dry  den, 
though  less  fertile,  speaks  of  "  rule  or  ruin,"  "  packing  a 
jury,"  and  bids  us  "  beware  of  the  wrath  of  a  patient 
man."  He  also  tells  us  that  "  great  wit  to  madness  is 
near  allied," 

Cowper  is  best  known  by  his  saying  that  "  God  made 
the  country  and  man  made  the  town."  Swift  is  but  little 
quoted  and  Sterne's  best  hits  are  "  our  army  swore  terri- 
bly in  Flanders,"  and  "  God  tempers  the  wind  to  the  shorn 
lamb."  Chatterton,  though  he  died  at  sixteen,  left  one 
grand  utterance,  "  Oh  give  the  mighty  will,  or  give  the 
willing  power." 

Tom  Moore,  with  all  his  grace  of  rhyme  and  thought, 
has  not  entered  largely  into  common  use,  but  his  "love 
me  it  were  sure  to  die"  is  often  repeated.  Keats  gives 
us  "  a  thing  of  beauty  is  a  joy  forever,"  and  Mrs.  Bar- 
bauld  lives  in  her  "  Life  we  have  been  long  together." 
Whittier's  "  it  might  have  been"  is  too  painful  to  die 
and  Longfellow  lives  in  his  "  lives  of  great  men  oft  re- 
mind us,"  and  some  other  pensive  utterances. 

John  Randolph  coined  "  doughface."  Franklin's  prov- 
erbs in  Poor  Richard's  Almanac  are  now  as  fresh  as  ever 
and  one  meets  them  at  every  turn.  "  The  school-master 
is  abroad  "  is  tlie  only  living  utterance  of  Lord  Brougham, 
who  of  all  the  brilliant  coterie  that  gave  the  Edinburgh 
Review  its  fame,  was  the  only  man  that  shot  a  keen  pro- 
verb into  public  use.  Southey,  though  a  life-long  writer, 
failed  in  this  point,  even  Tennyson  lias  given  us  but  two 
or  three  living  utterances,  while  Browning  has  no  hold 
on  common  parlance. 

Byron  is  extensively  incorporated  into  our  language, 
and  among  his  best  things  are  "  the  glory  and  the  nothing 
of  a  name;"  "between  two  worlds  life  hovers  like  a 


Book  Making.  69 

star";  "  a  book's  a  book  although  there's  nothing  in  it." 
He  entirely  ranks  Coleridge  and  Wordsworth,  and  yet  the 
latter  wrote  two  lines  which  Bryant  quoted  and  credited 
to  Shakespeare. 

"The  good  die  first  but  those  whose  life  is  dry 
As  summer  dust,  burn  long  in  the  socket." 

Shelley  is  less  quoted  than  any  other  man  of  high  order 
of  genius.  Scott  holds  a  medium  position,  and  is  ranked 
by  Burns  wliose  "  a  man's  a  man  for  a'  that "  is  the  best 
thing  ever  said  in  Scotland,  and  will  be  heard  in  common 
use  as  long  as  our  language  exists. 

Irving's  only  noted  saying  is  the  "almighty  dollar." 
Joel  Barlow's  cumbrous  epics  are  forgotten  — not  so,  how- 
ever, "the  man  of  straw."  Campbell  gives  to  common 
parlance  "distance  lends  enchantment  to  the  view";  and 
"  coming  events  cast  their  shadows  before."  Milton  has 
obtained  a  deep  hold  on  our  language  by  the  bright 
utterances  in  L' Allegro  and  Penseroso  where  lie  speaks 
of  the  "light  fantastic  toe";  "linked  sweetness  long 
drawn  out"  and  "dim  relio^ious  lic^ht."  His  sonnets 
contain  "  peace  hath  her  victories  not  less  renowned 
than  those  of  war."  Also,  "  they  also  serve  wdio  only 
stand  and  wait." 

Lord  Macaulay  and  Edward  Everett  were  admirable 
writers  but  they  have  no  place  in  common  parlance.  I 
need  hardly  add  that  Dickens  is  more  quoted  than  any 
other  modern  author,  and  he  has  written  himself  into  our 
language  to  a  degree  that  ensures  permanent  fame. 

Periodical  Literature. 
When  one  considers  the  enormous  size  and  wonderful 
perfection  of  Harper's  Monthly  or  the  Century  it  is  cer- 
tainly gratifying  to  national  pride  that  they  are  American 
publications.     In  order,  however,  to  appreciate  their  iui- 


60  OuK  Book. 

mensity  it  is  necessary  to  compare  tliem  with  tlie  earliest 
efforts  of  a  similar  character.  The  first  monthly  pei'iodi- 
cal  published  in  America  was  issued  in  Philadelphia  by 
Andrew  Bradford  in  1741.  It  w'as  called  the  American 
Magazine,  and  a  copy  of  the  first  volume  may  be  found 
in  the  Xew  York  Historical  Society.  It  did  not,  how- 
ever, receive  sufficient  patronage  and  hence  never  reached 
a  second  volume.  The  next  effort  of  the  kind  bore  the 
same  name  and  was  issued  in  Kew  York  by  Samuel  Lou- 
don in  1788.  It  was  edited  by  Xoah  Webster,  the  subse- 
quent lexicographer  who  was  then  thirty  and  had  already 
won  a  name  in  the  literary  world.  The  American  Maga- 
zine was  issued  at  $2.50  a  year  and  yet  the  entire  volume 
does  not  contain  as  much  reading  as  a  single  number  of 
any  first-class  modern  periodical. 

An  examination  of  the  contents  reveals  the  fact  that  at 
that  time  America  had  but  little  that  could  be  called  lit- 
erature. Tiie  entire  continent  did  not  contain  a  respect- 
able tale  writer.  The  American  Magazine  "svas  a  weak 
imitation  of  London  periodicals,  and  among  its  contents 
are  dry  essays  on  education,  scraps  of  foreign  news,  births 
and  deaths.  Some  Indian  researches  also  appear,  and 
occasional  articles  on  politics. 

The  most  interesting  feature  in  this  antique  volume  is 
a  description  of  New  York  which  gives  one  some  idea  of 
the  metropolis  as  it  appeared  a  century  ago.  At  that 
time  Irving  was  a  prattler  of  three  years,  and  even 
Charles  Brockden  Brown,  who  is  considered  the  father  of 
American  fiction,  was  only  a  schoolboy.  It  is  strange,  in- 
deed, to  think  that  at  the  time  referred  to  nothing  had 
appeared  in  America  to  even  suggest  that  vast  advance 
in  literature  which  has  been  gradually  established.  The 
best  poet  of  that  day  was  a  colored  girl  who  lived  in  Bos- 
ton named  Phil  lis  Wheatley. 


Book  Making.  61 

The  opening  of  the  present  century  was  marked  by  the 
appearance  of  the  Port  Folio  published  in  Philadelphia 
and  edited  by  Joseph  Dennie  who  was  the  most  versatile 
literateur  in  the  country.  Irving  was  one  of  its  contrib- 
utors and  it  lived  twenty-seven  years.  Dennie,  who  gave 
it  high  rank,  was  a  native  of  Boston,  and  had  won  dis- 
tinction before  coming  to  Philadelphia  where  he  died 
after  eleven  years'  editorial  service. 

It  is  not  generally  known  that  Irving  once  edited  a 
magazine.  Yes,  and  he  originated  a  name,  changing 
"Select  Reviews"  (published  by  Moses  Thomas  in 
Philadelphia),  to  the  "  Analectic  Magazine."  Irving  be- 
gan this  service  in  1812,  being  then  twenty -nine,  but  he 
soon  found  that  he  was  not  adapted  to  editorship  and 
resigned.     The  Analectic  failed  a  few  years  afterward. 

Other  Periodicals  of  the  Past. 

Charles  F.  Hoffman  established  the  Knickerbocker,  and 
afterward  was  editor  of  the  American  Monthly,  both  of 
which  failed.  The  former  was  for  many  years  under  the 
care  of  Lewis  G.  Clarke,  but  had  passed  out  of  his 
possession  before  its  conclusion.  N.  P.  Willis  and  George 
P.  Morris  printed  the  New  York  Mirror,  which  for  a 
lonff  time  was  the  most  fashionable  periodical  in  America, 
but  who  ever  hears  of  it  now  ?  After  the  failure  of  the 
Mirror,  Willis  began  the  Corsair  which  however  had  but 
a  brief  existence.  Park  Benjamin  for  a  short  time 
issued  the  Evergreen,  an  excellent  monthly  which  de 
served  a  better  fate.  William  M.  Snowdon  made  the 
Ladies'  Companion  a  temporary  success,  and  it  boasted  a 
circulation  of  20,000,  but  it  gradually  reached  the  inevit- 
able doom. 

William  E.  Burton,  who  had  a  literary  as  well  as  a  dra- 
matic turn,  issued  the  Gentleman's  Magazine,  which  went 


62  Our  Book. 

througli  a  brief  struggle  for  existence  and  then  quietly 
sank  into  oblivion.  The  Duyckinks,  who  were  the  most 
thorough  liter ateurs  of  New  York,  published  the  Literary 
World  for  several  years,  but  though  its  value  was  uni- 
versally admitted  it  was  unsuccessful.  Samuel  Colman 
the  publisher,  issued  Colman's  Magazine,  and  Putnam 
also  had  a  magazine  but  both  failed.  James  Mowat  pro- 
jected a  similar  effort,  with  no  better  success.  Charles 
Matthews  founded  Arcturus,  a  Magazine  of  Books  and 
Opinions,  but  notwithstanding  its  pompous  name  it 
proved  a  failure.  Thomas  Dunn  English  made  a  simi- 
lar effort  wdth  the  Aristidean,  but  with  no  better  suc- 
cess. 

Another  enterprise  of  the  same  character  was  found  in 
the  Democratic  Review,  whose  political  rival,  the  Whig 
Review,  was  almost  equally  short-lived.  The  International, 
though  a  very  clever  periodical,  failed  to  reach  a  perma- 
nent foothold,  and  so  did  the  brilliant  Appleton's  Jour- 
nal. The  Continental  was  begun  by  James  R.  Gilmore, 
better  known  by  the  pen  name  of  Edmund  Kirke,  assisted 
by  Richard  B.  Kimball,  who  won  distinction  as  a  novelist. 
Charles  G.  Leland  also  wrote  for  it,  but  after  making  a 
hard  struggle  for  two  years,  the  usual  result  was  reached. 

The  shortest-lived  of  all  American  periodicals,  and  also 
really  the  least  valuable,  is  doomed  to  renewed  publica- 
tion, by  the  fact  that  one  of  its  ]>rojectors  afterward  be- 
came a  famous  author.  Hence  it  has  a  place  among  his 
complete  works  —  but  what  an  infliction  on  the  reader! 
I  allude  to  Salmagundi,  which  only  reached  its  twentieth 
number.  It  was  a  clever  thing  in  its  day,  but  though  it 
deserved  immediate  oblivion,  it  lives  as  a  part  of  Irving's 
productions. 

Among  the  entire  record  of  unfortunate  periodicals 
none  held  a  prouder  position  than  Graham's  Magazine. 


Book  Making.  63 

It  was  at  one  time  edited  by  Poe,  and  its  contributors 
included  J.  Fennimore  Cooper  and  other  popular  names 
of  that  day.  Its  sales  were  reported  at  50,000,  and  for 
several  years  it  was  a  power  in  the  literary  world,  but 
eventually  it  sank  under  increasing  competition  until  it 
finally  disappeared.  The  Galaxy  was  another  instance  of 
a  noble  effort  that  ended  in  failure.  The  war  of  periodi- 
cals for  existence  has  been  as  relentless  as  any  other  ri- 
valry, and  the  path  through  which  a  few  have  risen  to 
success  is  strewn  with  wrecks  which  only  suggest  painful 
memories. 

Personal  Allusion. 

My  reference  to  the  Knickerbocker  leads  me  to  men- 
tion that  my  first  literary  effort  after  coming  to  New 
York  appeared  in  its  columns.  I  was  then  a  boy  of  seven- 
teen and  earned  $1  a  week  as  a  clerk  for  John  B.  Glover, 
auctioneer,  corner  of  Broad  street  and  Exchange  place. 
I  was  allowed  to  sleep  in  the  store  and  boarded  myself  at 
a  cost  of  nine  cents  a  day.  This  close  economy  supple- 
mented by  the  kindness  of  a  lady  who  aided  me  with 
occasional  gifts,  enabled  me  to  go  through  a  severe  press- 
ure. That  a  poor  clerk  u\a,y  find  in  literature  consolation 
as  well  as  recreation  I  know  b}'  experience,  and  when  I 
saw  my  maiden  piece  printed  in  the  Knickerbocker  in 
company  with  articles  by  Charles  F.  Briggs,  Caleb  Cush- 
ing  and  Washington  Irving  it  was  a  moment  of  inex- 
pressible delight.  The  poor  clerk  had  deposited  the 
offering  in  the  editor's  box  at  night  with  trembling  hand  ; 
he  had  not  expected  its  acceptance  ;  he  had,  in  fact,  looked 
on  it  as  dead,  and  was  therefore  surprised  a  few  weeks 
afterward  by  its  resurrection.  Of  course  he  never  received 
any  compensation,  nor  indeed,  did  he  have  enough  assur- 
ance to  even  introduce  himself  to  the  editor.  The 
increase  in  his  duties  prevented  any  further  contributions, 


64  Our  Book. 

but  this  incident  always  gave  him  special  interest  in  the 
Knickerbocker.  The  latter  was  then  under  Clarke's 
management  and  he  was  unable  to  pay  any  except  a  few 
rare  authors.  Longfellow  and  Irving  received  small 
compensation,  but  most  of  the  Knickerbocker  writers  felt 
sufficiently  rewarded  by  a  place  in  its  columns  —  remind- 
ing one  of  Byron's  expression  : 

"  'Tis  pleasant  sure  to  see  one's  name  in  print, 
A  book  's  a  book,  although  tliere's  nothing  in  't." 

Munchausen. 
It  is  not  generally  known  that  Baron  Munchausen  was 
a  reality,  and  that  the  name  has  long  been  one  of  high 
rank.  Gerlack  Munchausen  for  instance,  was  a  German 
statesman  of  marked  importance  during  the  reign  of 
Frederick  the  Great,  and  the  baron  himself  was  an  officer 
in  the  cavalry.  He  served  in  the  Russian  army  with 
credit,  and  then  retired  to  his  native  town,  where  he  died 
in  1797.  He  had  a  penchant  for  boastful  stories,  and  it 
increased  as  he  advanced  in  age,  until  his  name  became 
proverbial  for  j-idiculous  exaggeration.  It  is  hardly  prob- 
able, however,  that  he  ever  expected  to  see  his  tales  in 
print,  and  hence  the  book  itself  must  have  been  a  sur- 
prise. It  appeared  in  London  in  1785  and  was  written 
by  a  German  literateur  named  Raspe,  who  had  fled  from 
his  country  and  taken  refuge  in  London.  He  sought  a 
subject  for  his  pen,  but  at  that  time  literature  was  at  too 
low  a  mark  to  afford  encouragement  except  in  nonsense. 
The  nation  had  just  passed  through  the  horrors  of  a 
seven  years'  war  and  wanted  something  humorous  rather 
than  solid.  This  led  Raspe  to  the  idea  of  ridiculing 
military  life,  and  recalling  the  big  stories  in  which  the 
baron  indulged  he  not  only  repeats  them  but  adds  all 
other  absurdities  within  his  reach.     To  give  the  volume 


Book  Making.  65 

a  showy  name  he  styled  it  Baron  Munchausen's  Narra- 
tive of  liis  Marvelous  Travels  and  Campaigns.  The 
book  proved  popular  and  the  next  year  another  edition 
was  issued  with  pictures  "  from  the  baron's  drawings." 
The  same  year  it  was  translated  into  German,  where  its 
popularity  has  continued  until  the  present  time.  In  Lon- 
don it  ran  through  seven  editions  in  as  many  years,  but 
in  1793  its  extravagances  seemed  so  weak  before  the  in- 
credible horrors  of  the  French  revolution  that  the  sale 
was  for  a  time  checked.  In  a  few  years,  however,  it 
revived,  and  at  last  it  was  honored  by  the  genius  of  Dore. 
There  is  so  much  real  humor  in  the  Munchausen  extrava- 
ganzas that  the  book  may  be  considered  one  of  the  per- 
manent features  in  literature,  and  it  will  be  long  before 
its  absurd  and  grotesque  inventions  are  equaled. 

Fun  Turned  to  Fact. 

It  is  a  curious  and,  indeed,  a  surprising  fact  that  one  of 
the  greatest  triumphs  of  modern  science  is  but  a  repro- 
duction of  one  of  the  Baron  Munchausen  absurdities. 
How  strange  to  find  the  following  statement  in  a  book 
published  a  hundred  years  ago : 

Seized  with  a  fury  for  canal  cutting,  I  took  it  into  my  head  to 
form  an  immediate  communication  between  the  Mediterranean 
and  the  Red  sea.  I  proceeded  to  the  isthmus  of  Suez  *  *  * 
Having  made  a  track  with  my  chariot  from  sea  to  sea,  I  ordered 
my  Turks  and  Russians  to  begin,  and  in  a  few  hours  we  had  the 
pleasure  of  seeing  a  fleet  of  British  East  Indiamen  in  full  sail 
tlirough  the  canal.  The  officers  of  this  fleet  were  very  polite  and 
])aid  me  every  applause  and  congratulation  my  exploit  could 
merit. 

The  baron  also  creates  with  equal  facility  a  canal  across 
the  isthmus  of  Darien,  but  in  tbis  achievement  he  is  stiU 
in  advance  of  the  age. 

Whittiee  the  Satirist. 

The  attention  which    the   octogenarian   poet   has   at- 
0 


^6  Odk  Book. 

tracted  leads  one  to  consider  a  very  important  feature  in 
his  character,  and  also  one  which  has  been  generally  over- 
looked. I  refer  to  his  powers  of  satire,  in  which  he 
ranks  all  others  who  have  made  poetry  subserve  censure. 
The  three  greatest  British  satirists  were  Dryden,  Pope 
and  Byron ;  but  Whittier  by  one  effort  threw  them  all 
in  the  shade.  His  Ichabod  is  the  most  terrible  thing 
of  the  kind  in  existence,  and  when  first  published  created 
a  more  intense  sensation  than  any  similar  production  in 
America.  In  other  words,  Ichabod  is  a  picture  of 
Daniel  Webster  after  his  "  seventh  of  March  speech,' '  in 
which  he  went  over  to  the  pro-slavery  ranks  in  hope  of 
gaining  the  presidency.  I  well  remember  the  deep  sor- 
row which  filled  the  hearts  not  only  of  Webster's  friends, 
but  of  all  the  friends  of  freedom,  and  amid  this  general 
lament  was  heard  the  voice  of  Whittier,  touching  and 
plaintive,  but  scathing  as  the  fire  from  heaven.  It  was, 
indeed,  this  very  combination  of  sorrow  and  indignation 
which  gave  the  utterance  such  terrific  power. 

Other  Satires. 

Having  referred  to  other  distinguished  satirists  I  would 
say  that  Dryden  gave  a  severe  picture  of  Villiers  in  the 
following  lines : 

"  Stiff  in  opinion,  yet  always  in  the  wrong; 
Was  everything  by  starts  and  nothing  long; 
But  in  the  course  of  one  revolving  moon 
Was  chemist,  tidier,  statesman  and  buffoon." 

There  is  a  coarseness  in  the  above  which  did  not  suit 
the  next  generation,  and  passing  over  a  number  of  sharp 
personalities  we  come  to  the  keenest  thing  in  the  eigh- 
teenth century,  Pope's  exposure  of  Addison.  These  men 
had  been  close  friends,  and  Pope  had  written  the  pro- 
logue for  Addison's  tragedy  of  Cato,  but  jealousy 
afterward   arose,   and    eventually   Pope   suspected   that 


Book  Making.  G7 

Addison  was  endeav^oring  to  injure  him.  This  suspicion 
gradually  led  to  conviction,  and  Pope  determined  to  in- 
clude Addison  in  a  general  castigation  of  his  literar}-^ 
enemies.  I  do  not  mean  The  Dunciad,  but  in  that 
])revious  review  found  in  the  Prologue  to  the  Satires 
wlicre  he  draws  the  following  picture  of  one : 

"Bless'd  with  eacii  talent  and  each  art  to  please, 
And  born  to  write,  converse  and  live  with  ease. 
Should  such  a  man,  too  fond  to  rule  alone. 
Bear  like  the  Turk  no  brother  near  the  throne, 
View  him  with  scornful  yet  with  jealous  eyes, 
And  hate  for  arts  that  caused  himself  to  rise. 
Damn  with  faint  praise,  assent  with  civil  leer, 
And  without  sneering,  others  teach  to  sneer. 
Willing  to  wound  and  yet  afraid  to  strike, 
Just  hint  a  fault  and  liesitate  dislike, 
A  timorous  foe  and  a  suspicious  friend. 
Alike  reserved  to  blame  or  to  commend. 
Like  Cato  give  his  little  senate  laws 
And  sit  attentive  to  his  own  applause. 
Who  but  must  laugh  if  such  a  man  there  be, 
Who  would  not  weep  if  Atticus  were  he  ? " 

This  lampoon  thrilled  the  literary  circles  of  London,  for 
all  knew  that  Atticus  was  none  other  than  Addison,  while 
to  make  the  identity  more  complete  there  is  the  refer- 
ence to  Cato,  which  was  Addison's  only  attempt  at 
tragedy. 

Byron. 

The  third  satirist  is  Byron,  but  I  do  not  here  refer  to 
his  ''English  Bards  and  Scotcli  Keviewers,"  fur  keen  as 
were  its  shafts,  the  variety  in  his  attack  impaired  its 
intensity.  I,  therefore,  designate  his  Windsor  Poetics 
as  the  chief  satire  of  his  day,  not  only  because  of  the 
truth  which  it  contains,  but  because  it  is  concentrated  on 
one  man,  and  he  the  most  exalted  person,  in  rank  at 
least,  in  the  kingdom  being  indeed  the  heir  to  the  throne. 
Byron  became  deejjly  indignant  at  the  imprisonment  of 
Leigh  Hunt  for  an  alleged  libel  on  the  prince  regent,  and. 


68  Our  Book. 

therefore,  gave  expression  to  his  feelings  in  the  following 
outburst  which  was  headed  thus : 

"  Lines  composed  on  the  occasion  of  his  royal  highness, 
the  prince  regent,  being  seen  standing  between  the  coffins 
of  Hemy  YIII  and  Charles  I  in  the  royal  vault  at 
Windsor: 

"Famed  for  contemptuous  breach  of  sacred  ties, 
By  headless  Charles,  see  heartless  Henry  lies; 
Between  them  stands  another  sceptred  tiling; 
It  moves,  it  reigns,  in  all  but  name  a  king. 
Charles  to  his  people,  Henry  to  his  wife, 
In  him  the  double  tyrant  starts  to  life ; 
Justice  and  death  have  mixed  their  dust  in  vain, 
Each  royal  vampire  wakes  to  life  again. 
Ah,  what  can  tombs  avail,  since  these  disgorge 
The  blood  and  dust  of  each  to  mould  a  George." 

These  lines  were,  of  course,  widely  read,  and  the  sensa- 
tion can  hardly  be  described.  Never  was  a  shot  more 
effective,  since  it  came,  not  from  a  plebeian,  but  from  a 
peer  of  the  realm  and  the  loftiest  genius  that  the  peerage 
has  ever  produced. 

Whittier  oij  Webster. 

I  need  hardly  say  that  "  Ichabod  "  means  "his  glorj'  is 
departed."  This  stands  number  four  in  point  of  time, 
but  it  ranks  all  of  the  others,  because  it  represents  princi- 
ple. Having,  however,  already  referred  to  this  feature 
in  the  case,  I  will  place  the  poem  immediately  before  my 
readers  and  let  them  judge  for  themselves. 

ICHABOD. 

So  fallen !  So  lost !  the  light  withdrawn 

Which  once  he  wore ! 
The  glory  from  his  gray  hair  gone 

Forevermore. 

Revile  him  not,  the  tempter  hath 

A  snare  for  all ; 
And  pitying  tears,  not  scorn  and  wrath, 

IJetit  his  fall! 


Book  Making.  69 

O,  dumb  be  passion's  stormy  rage, 

When  he  who  might 
Have  lighted  up  and  led  his  age. 

Falls  back  in  night. 

Scorn!  would  the  angels  laugh,  to  mark 

A  bright  soul  driven, 
Fiend-goaded,  down  the  endless  dark, 

From  hope  and  heaven! 

Let  not  the  land  once  proud  of  him 

Insult  him  now, 
Nor  brand  with  deeper  shame  his  dim, 

Dishonored  brow. 

But  let  its  humbled  sons,  instead, 

From  sea  to  lake, 
A  long  lament,  as  for  the  dead. 

In  sadness  make. 

Of  all  we  loved  and  honored,  naught 

Save  power  remains, 
A  fallen  angel's  pride  of  thought, 

Still  strong  in  chains. 

All  else  is  gone ;  from  those  great  eyes 

The  soul  has  fled  ; 
When  faith  is  lost,  when  honor  dies. 

The  man  is  dead ! 

Then,  pay  the  reverence  of  old  days 

To  his  dead  fame ; 
Walk  backward,  with  averted  gaze, 
And  hide  the  shame! 

A  Literary  Curiosity. 
I  now  give  a  resurrected  poem  wliicli  Whittier  wrote 
when  he  was  only  twenty-three,  and  which  was  inscribed 
to  Miss  L.  E.  Landon,  author  of  "  The  Improvisatrice." 
Whittier  omitted  it  in  his  complete  edition  and  hence  I 
now  feel  it  my  duty  to  publish  the  poem  in  full,  so  that 
those  who  desire  to  incorporate  it  in  Whittier's  works 
may  have  the  opportunity.  It  is  certainly  a  fine  produc- 
tion and  deserves  preservation,  and  its  discovery  was  very 
fortunate.  I  found  it  in  the  Boston  Athenceum  of  Aug- 
ust, 1830.  One  cannot  fail  to  be  surprised  that  Whittier 
should  omit  so  creditable  a  poem,  but  it  is  possible  that 


70  OuK  Book. 

he  considered  it  too  gushing  for  a  Quaker,  and  not  in 
harmony  with  the  tenor  of  his  muse.  It  is  evident,  how- 
ever, that  he  caught  inspiration  from  tlie  person  whom 
he  addresses,  for  this  is  the  earliest  poem  of  his  that  I 
can  find  in  print,  and  I  have  reason  to  beh'eve  that  it  is 
really  his  first  effort  of  the  kind.  I  wrote  Whittier  ask- 
ing why  he  omitted  it,  but  received  no  reply.  The  pub- 
lic, however,  has  a  right  to  it  and  I  now  give  it  fresh  life. 

TO  THE  AUTHOR  OF  THE  IMPROVISATRICE. 

BY   J.    GREENLEAF   WHITTIER. 

I  know  thee  not,  high  spirit,  but  the  sympathy  of  tliought 
Hath  often  to  my  Iiours  of  dreams  thy  living  presence  brought; 
And  I  feel  that  I  could  love  thee  with  the  fondness  of  a  brother, 
As  the  sainted  ones  of  Paradise  bear  love  for  one  another. 

For  I  know  thy  spirit  hath  been  pour'd  full  freely  in  thy  song, 
"Where  feeling  hath  been  prodigal,  and  passion  hatli  been  strong  — 
Tliat  the  secrets  of  thy  bosom  are  burning  on  thy  lyre. 
In  the  nature  of  thy  worshiping  a  ministry  of  fire. 

Young  priestess  at  a  holy  shrine,  I  scarce  can  dream  that  years 
So  few  and  beautiful  as  thine  are  register'd  in  tears  — 
That  the  gift  of  thy  affection  hath  gone  abroad  in  vain  — 
A  rose-leaf  on  the  autumn  wind  —  a  foam  wreath  on  the  main? 

Yet  blended  with  thy  beautiful  and  intellectual  lays, 

I  read  a  mournful  consciousness  of  cold  and  evil  days; 

Of  the  weariness  existence  feels  when  its  sunlight  has  gone  down, 

And  from  the  autumn  of  the  heart  the  flowers  of  hope  are  strown  ; 

Of  the  coldness  of  the  hollow  world,  its  vanities  that  pass 
Like  tinges  from  the  sunset,  or  night-gems  from  the  grass  — 
Its  mocking  and  luimeaning  praise,  the  flatterer's  fatal  art  — 
Flowers  madly  to  the  bosom  clasp'd,  with  serpents  at  their  heart! 

And  Oh!  if  things  like  these  have  been  the  chasteners  of  thy 

years, 
How  hath  thy  woman's  spirit  known  the  bitterness  of  tears! 
How  hath  thy  girlhood  visions  —  the  warm  wild  thought  of  youth, 
Folded  their  sunny  pinions,  and  darken'd  into  truth ! 

O  wearily,  most  wearily,  unto  the  child  of  song. 
The  heavy  tide  of  being  rolls,  a  sunless  wave,  along  — 
When  the  promise  of  existence  fades  before  the  time  of  noon, 
And  the  evening  of  the  soul  comes  on,  unblest  l)y  star  or  moon. 


Book  Making.  Yl 

God  help  thee  in  thy  weary  way !  and  if  the  silver  tone 
Of  fame  hath  music  for  an  ear  so  chasten'd  as  thine  own, 
Thou  hast  it  from  another  clime,  where  heart  and  mind  are  free, 
And  where  the  brave  and  beautiful  have  bow'd  themselves  to  thee. 

And  one  whose  home  hath  been  among  tiie  mountains  of  the  north, 
Wliere  the  cataract  mocks  the  earthquake,  and  the  giant  streams 

come  forth, 
Where  spirits  in  their  robes  of  flame  dance  o'er  the  clear  blue  sky. 
And  to  the  many-voiced  storm  the  eagle  makes  reply. 

A  worshiper  before  the  shrine  at  which  thy  spirit  bendeth. 
While  on  its  pure  and  natural  gifts  the  holy  flame  descendeth, 
Hath  pour'd  his  tribute  on  thine  ear,  as  he  would  praise  a  star 
Whose  beams  had  wander'd  down  to  him  from  tlieir  blue  home  afar. 

Lady  !  amidst  the  clarion-note  of  well-deserved  fame, 
It  were,  perhaps,  but  vain  to  hope  this  feeble  lay  might  claim 
A  portion  of  thy  fair  regard,  or  win  a  thought  of  thine 
To  linger  on  a  gift  so  frail  and  dissonant  as  mine. 

But  onward  in  thy  skyward  path  —  a  thousand  eyes  shall  turn 
To  where,  like  heaven's  unwasting  stars,  thy  gifts  of  spirit  burn — 
A  thousand  hearts  shall  wildly  tlirill  where'er  thy  lays  are  known, 
And  stately  manhood  blend  its  praise  with  woman's  gentlest  tone. 

Fare"rteli !  —  the  hand  that  traces  this  may  perish  ere  life's  noon. 
And  the  spirit  that  hath  guided  it  may  be  forgot  as  soon  — • 
Forgotten  with  its  lofty  liopes  —  the  fever'd  dreams  of  mind  — 
Unnoted,  stealing  to  the  dead  without  a  name  behind. 

But  thou  upon  the  human  heart,  in  characters  of  flame. 
And  on  the  heaven  of  intellect  hast  registered  tliy  name; 
The  gifted  ones  of  fallen  earth  shall  worship  at  thy  shrine, 
And  sainted  spirits  joy  to  hold  companionship  witli  thine. 

How  remarkable  that  one  who  spoke  of  perishing  "  ere 
Hfe's  noon"  should  live  to  fonr-score,  while  she  whom  he 
apostrophizes  died  so  early,  and  only  found  a  grave  on 
the  African  coast !  It  is  also  surprising  to  see  how  cor- 
I'ectly  Whittier  understood  the  voice  of  sorrow,  and  hence 
his  first  poem  has  peculiar  interest. 

Tom  Mooke. 

Some  of  my  readers  will  find  it  hard  to  believe  that  an 
author  so  famous  as  Moore  was  in  point  of  stature  one  of 
the  smallest  men  of  his  day.     Isaac  Watts   the  hymnist, 


72  Our  Book. 

was  also  a  very  small  man,  and  thus  the  most  distin 
guished  lyric  writers  of  the  Bi'itish  empire  —  the  one 
sacred  and  the  other  profane  —  were  matched  in  stature  ; 
Moore  was  of  delicate  but  graceful  frame,  beautiful  in 
countenance  and  highly  gifted  as  a  vocalist.  No  society 
man  equaled  him  as  a  convivial  guest  and  to  this  was 
added  his  poetical  genius.  He  was  one  of  the  few  who 
throw  their  souls  into  their  words,  and  for  this  reason  Ms 
verses  will  always  be  popular.  Moore's  works  indeed, 
are  proof  against  time  and  must  always  hold  promi- 
nence in  emotional  poetry.  Nearly  a  century  previously 
Pope  wrote  of  a  poet  of  his  day : 

"And  Ireland,  mother  of  sweet  singers, 
Presents  her  harp  still  to  his  fingers." 

Could  he  however  have  returned  to  life  he  would  have 
been  astonished  to  see  how  much  more  ap|)licable  these 
lines  are  to  Moore  than  to  the  now  forgotteu  Southern. 

Early  Incidents. 
John  Moore  a  Dublin  tradesman  had  been  married  but 
a  year  when  his  Mdfe,  who  was  but  eighteen,  presented 
him  with  the  infant  bard.  The  family  was  respectable, 
the  parents  were  ambitious,  and  the  boy  was  as  soon  as 
possible  sent  to  a  first  class  school.  At  thirteen  he  de- 
livered a  "piece"  at  the  public  exhibition,  being  styled 
"Master  Moore,"  and  was  even  then  gifted  in  both  reci- 
tation and  song.  In  fact  he  was  almost  a  prodigy,  since 
his  talents  were  in  such  contrast  with  his  diminutive  size. 
He  was  "  little  Thomas,"  but  such  was  his  popularity  as 
a  speaker  tluit  he  was  already  one  of  the  Dublin  charac- 
ters. This  "little  Thomas,"  whose  stature  never  ex- 
ceeded five  feet,  became  a  graduate  of  the  university 
and  soon  won  a  reputation  for  poetry.  At  fourteen,  in- 
deed he  had  appeared  in  print,  and  his  effusions  thence- 


-^ 


Tom  Mooke.  73 

forth  were  marked  by  decided  promise.  The  next  step 
in  progress  is  the  transition  to  London,  where,  if  means 
could  be  obtained,  he  was  to  enter  the  Temple  as  a  student 
of  law.  Moore,  however,  did  not  visit  London  as  a  mere 
adventurer.  How  different  indeed  his  reception  there 
from  that  of  another  Irish  genius  —  the  unfortunate  Gold- 
smith? Hecamo  with  such  a  prestige  as  gave  him  the  entree 
of  the  highest  circles,  where  he  soon  became  a  favorite. 
His  first  volume  was  published  when  he  was  but  twenty- 
two,  and  seldom  has  such  brilliant  success  been  so  early 
achieved.  lie  writes  thus  to  his  mother:  "I  assure  you 
I  am  six  feet  high.  The  new  edition  will  soon  be  out, 
and  will  be  got  up  very  handsomely.  What  do  you  think 
—  young  Lord  Forbes  and  another  young  nobleman  dine 
with  me  to-morrow."  Moore's  next  appearance  as  an 
author  was  like  that  of  many  others,  with  a  pen  name, 
and  in  view  of  his  small  size  he  styled  himself  "  Thomas 
Little."  It  was  of  this  volume  that  Byron,  seven  years 
afterward,  wrote  in  his  famous  satire  : 

"Tis  Little,  young  Catullus  of  his  day; 
As  sweet  but  as  immoral  as  his  lay." 

Byron  also  adds  the  following  personal  reference  with- 
out regard  to  the  disguise  of  a  pen  name  : 

"Let  Moore  be  lewd,  let  Strangford  steal  from  Moore, 
And  swear  Camoens  wrote  such  strains  before." 

Moore  was  justly  censured  for  his  lack  of  delicacy  and 
his  later  effusions  were  free  from  this  blemish.  Thence- 
forth, he  was  one  of  the  most  popular  of  songsters,  and 
his  gems  are  still  cherished  by  all  true  lovers  of  poetry. 

Moore  in  America. 

In  1804,  two  years  after  the  publication  of  poems  by 
Thomas  Little,  America  welcomed  the  most  gifted  foreign 
author  that  had  ever  visited  our  shores.     He  was  in  his 
10 


74  Our  Book. 

twenty-fifth  year  —  full  of  enthusiasm  and  poetic  fire, 
and  how  unfit  must  New  York  have  been  to  entertain  the 
brilliant  stranger  !  The  population  was  not  more  than 
one-thirtieth  its  present  number,  and  it  had  neither  music, 
literature  nor  the  drama,  except  in  the  most  limited  degree. 
Our  nation,  indeed  had  not,  up  to  that  time,  produced  a 
first-class  author,  since  neither  Joel  Barlow  nor  Charles 
Brockden  Brown  can  be  entitled  to  such  rank.  The  latter 
had  attracted  attention  by  his  novels,  but  he  was  a  Phila- 
delphian,  and  New  York  tlien  had  no  writer,  for  even 
Irving  was  unknown.  The  latter,  indeed,  had  just  sailed 
for  Europe,  both  to  improve  his  health  and  to  see  the 
world,  and  being  only  twenty-one  had  hardly  any  expec- 
tations of  either  legal  or  literary  success.  Under  such 
circumstances  the  poet  could  hardly  be  other  than  dis- 
gusted with  a  comnmnity  which  had  but  one  public  theme 
—  politics  —  for  which  he  cared  nothing.  At  that  very 
time  however  John  Davis  made  his  American  tour,  but 
being  a  sensible  London  printer  he  found  no  fault  with 
those  defects  that  the  poet  censured.  Davis'  travels  indeed 
are  a  marked  contrast  with  Moore's  letters. 

American  hotels  and  other  accommodations  for  travelers 
naturally  repelled  the  favorite  of  London's  best  society, 
and  this  explains  his  j^ungent  ridicule  of  our  institutions. 

If  it  be  inquired  what  brought  the  young  poet  hither, 
the  reply  is  as  follows  :  The  sensation  he  had  made  in  the 
literary  world  had  won  the  patronage  of  an  influential 
nobleman  (Lord  Moira),  who  had  procured  him  a  berth 
under  the  government.  As  literature  was  not  self-sup- 
porting, such  an  appointment  was  highly  desirable  for  a 
penniless  poet. 

The  ofiice  was  at  Bermuda  but  it  proved  unsatifr. 
factory,  and  the  poet  having  left  it  to  a  deputy  was 
about  to  return  home.     It  may  be  added  that  the  deputy 


Tom  Moobe.  75 

proved  a  defaulter,  and  the  Bermuda  office,  from  which 
much  had  been  expected,  proved  a  protracted  misfortune. 
Moore  came  from  Bermuda  to  New  York,  in  order  to 
procure  trans-Atlantic  passage,  and  while  here  determined 
to  visit  a  few  scenes  of  specialin  teres  t.  lie  was  the  first 
British  author  that  saw  Niagara  Falls,  and  his  emotions 
show  that  nature,  not  society,  awoke  his  admiration. 

He  visited  Washington,  which  then  was  a  settlement 
not  ten  years  old,  and  the  unfinished  state  of  society  jarred 
upon  a  young  aristocrat  who  had  been  a  favorite  even  in 
court  circles.  The  way  he  traveled  presents  some  con- 
trast with  the  facilities  of  the  present  day.  He  writes  to 
his  mother  as  follows,  dated  Baltimore,  June  13,  1804: 

'*  Such  a  road  as  I  have  come  and  such  a  conveyance !  The  mail 
takes  twelve  passengers  which  generally  consist  of  squalling 
children,  stinking  negroes  and  repul)licans  smoking  cigars.  How 
often  it  has  occurred  to  me  that  nothing  can  be  more  emblematic 
of  the  government  of  this  country  than  its  stages,  filled  with  a 
motley  mixture,  all  "  hail  fellow  well  met,"  driving  through  mud 
and  filth  and  risking  an  upset  at  every  step!  God  comfort  their 
capacities!  As  soon  as  I  am  away  from  them  both  the  stages  and 
the  government  may  have  the  same  fate  for  all  I  care." 

These  flings  at  the  government  may  be  explained  by 
the  fact  that  hardly  twenty-one  years  had  elapsed  since  the 
close  of  that  war  which  had  so  humbled  the  British  flag. 
He,  therefore,  shows  the  power  of  that  bitter  prejudice 
which  was  so  generally  directed  against  all  that  was 
American. 

British  Satire. 
On  his  return  (1806)  Moore  published  a  volume  of  mis- 
cellaneous effusions  which  he  dedicated  to  the  nobleman 
who  had  given  him  his  appointment,  and  in  the  preface 
he  says,  "though  prudence  might  have  dictated  gentler 
language,  truth  would  have  justified  severer."  He  also  says 
in  the  same  connection  that  what  he  saw  "  represses  every 
sanguine  hope  of   the  future   energy   and  greatness  of 


76  Our  Book. 

America."  While  at  Washington  the  poet  addressed  a 
rhyming  epistle  to  a  London  friend,  in  which,  among 
other  disconsolate  utterances,  I  find  the  following  : 


e'en  now 


"While  yet  on  Columbia's  rising  brow, 
The  showy  smile  of  young  presumption  plays 
Her  bloom  is  poisoned  and  her  heart  decays. 
Even  now  in  dawn  of  life  her  sickly  breath 
Burns  with  the  taint  of  empires  near  tlieir  death." 

Another  epistle  addressed  to  a  friend  of  different  name, 

contains  an  equally  unfavorable  sketch: 

This  fam'd  metropolis  where  fancy  sees 
Squares  in  morasses,  obelisks  in  trees  ; 
Which  traveling  fools  and  gazetteers  adorn, 
"With  shrines  unbuilt  and  heroes  yet  unborn, 
Though  naught  but  woods  and  swamps  they  see, 
"Where  streets  should  run  and  sages  ought  to  be." 

The  poet  also  invites  his  friend  to  accompany  him  (in 

spirit  at  least)  during  his  American  tour : 

*'  O'er  lake  and  marsh,  tlirough  fevers  and  through  fogs, 
'Jtfidst  bears  and  Yankees,  democrats  and  frogs." 

Prose  Sketch. 
In  a  note  to  one  of  these  letters  Moore  writes  thus  : 

"The  federal  city  (if  it  must  l)e  called  a  city)  has  not  much  in-t 
creased  since  Weld  visited  it.  Most  of  the  public  buildings,  which 
were  then  in  some  degree  of  forwardness,  have  been  utterly  sus- 
pended. The  hotel  is  already  a  ruin  and  a  great  i)art  of  its  roof 
has  fallen  in.  The  president's  house  (a  very  noble  structure)  is 
by  no  means  suited  to  the  philosophic  humility  of  its  present  oc- 
cupant, who  inhabits  but  a  corner  himself  and  abandons  the  rest 
to  a  state  of  uncleanly  desolation.  The  private  buildings  display 
the  same  arrogant,  speculative  and  premature  ruin,  and  the  few 
ranges  of  houses  which  were  begun  some  years  ago  have  remained 
so  long  unfinished  that  they  are  now  for  the  most  part  dilapidated. 
On  a  small  hill  near  the  capitol  there  is  to  be  an  equestrian  statue 
of  "Washington." 

Such  is  the  picture  drawn  by  the  first  professional  lit- 
erateur  that  visited  our  capital.  Could  Moore  be  re- 
stored to  life  he  would  find  in  the  Washington  monu- 
ment a  loftier  height  than  architectural  genius  has  ever 


Tom  Moore.  Y7 

elsewhere  attained,  and  in  tlie  Sojithsonian  Institute  lie 
would  behold  a  striking  instance  of  British  regard  for 
American  institutions. 

The  poet  remained  a  sufficient  time  in  Philadelphia  to 
form  an  enduring  friendship,  which  he  honors  by  one  of 
his  prettiest  poems,  and  thence  he  came  to  New  York 
and  ascended  the  Hudson  in  a  sloop.  A  letter  to  his 
mother,  dated  Saratoga,  July  10,  ISO-i,  contains  the 
following  sketch : 

"The  country  round  here  seems  the  very  home  of  the  sav- 
ages. Nothing  but  tall  forests  of  pine,  to  which  a  narrow 
road  with  difficulty  winds  its  way,  and  yet  this  is  the  water- 
ing-place for  ladies  and  gentlemen  from  all  parts  of  the 
United  States."  lie  speaks  of  being  "  stowed  into  a 
miserable  boarding-house,  whose  guests  were  smoking  and 
drinking  the  waters.  They  were  astonished  at  our  ask- 
ing for  basins  and  towels  for  ourselves,  and  thought  we 
ought  to  come  down  to  the  jDublic  wash-stand  along  with 
the  other  gentlemen." 

How  strange  does  this  sound  when  contrasted  with  the 
Saratoga  of  to-day  !  Notwithstanding  the  prejudices 
expressed  in  some  of  liis  letters  to  London  friends,  he 
could  not  supjjress  in  his  home  correspondence  a  con- 
sciousness of  our  national  importance.  lie  admits  that 
he  saw  signs  of  future  national  greatness,  and  WTote 
to  his  mother  of  "  this  very  interesting  world,  which,  not- 
withstanding the  defects  and  disgusting  peculiarities  of 
its  natives,  gives  every  promise  of  no  distant  competition 
with  the  first  i)owers  of  the  Eastern  hemisphere." 

Mooee's  j\'Tarriage. 
The   poet   proceeded   from    Niagara   to   Halifax,  and 
reached  home  after  a  short  passage,  having  been  absent  a 
year.     He  resumed  London  life,  and  at  twenty-seven  was 


78  Our  iBooK. 

one  of  the  most  popular  societ}'^  men  in  the  British  me- 
tropolis, lie  was  not  only  the  favorite  of  the  aristocracy, 
but  had  even  been  noticed  by  the  prince  regent.  It 
was,  therefore,  expected  by  his  friends  that  he  would  im- 
prove his  social  and  literary  position  by  a  splendid  mar- 
riage. What,  then,  must  have  been  the  surprise  of  Lon- 
don society,  and  what  the  distress  of  his  j^arents,  who  still 
lived  in  Dublin,  when  it  was  announced  that  the  most 
brilliant  poet  of  the  day  had  become  the  husband  of  an 
inferior  actress.  Thomas  Moore  and  Bessie  Dyke !  Who 
would  have  thought  it?  The  bride's  history  is  involved 
in  obscurity.  If,  however,  she  never  made  a  name  on 
the  boards,  it  is  evident  that  she  never  was  contaminated 
by  the  vices  which  so  often  stain  the  drama. 

Disappointing  as  such  a  match  must  have  been  to  an 
ambitious  family,  the  union  proved  one  of  the  happiest 
in  the  literary  record.  True,  Bessie  always  felt  the  infe- 
riority of  her  early  position,  and  hence  never  entered  that 
society  which  welcomed  her  husband,  but  it  is  evident 
that  the  latter  never  met  a  greater  attraction.  Their  con- 
jugal life  was  one  of  tender  affection  and  sympathy,  and 
Bessie  not  only  proved  a  cheerful  companion  and  a  faith- 
ful mother,  but  also  watched  with  untiring  devotion  over 
the  decay  of  her  husband.  Moore's  diary  for  thirty  years 
invariably  refers  to  Bessie  in  the  highest  terms,  and  it  is 
evident  that  she  was  one  of  the  noblest  of  her  sex.  It 
was  a  peculiar  feature  in  her  character  that  she  shrank  from 
high  life  and  declined  being  patronized.  On  one  occasion 
an  aristocratic  lady  wrote  to  Moore  "  to  come  and  bring 
along  his  little  wife."  The  remark  of  the  latter  on  hear- 
ing the  message  was  "  the  little  wife  will  remain  at  home." 

Moore  and  Byron. 
The  strongest  literary  friendship  of  that  day  existed 
between  these  men,  and  yet  it  began  under  the  very 


MooKE  AND  Byron.  79 

shadow  of  a  duel.  I  have  already  referred  to  Byron's 
lampoon  on  Muore's  maiden  volume,  but  this  was  accom- 
panied by  allusions  of  a  still  more  pungent  character. 
The  "hostile  meeting"  between  Moore  and  Jeffrey 
afforded  another  sul)ject  for  Byron's  caustic  wit.  Jeffrey 
had  criticised  Moore's  poems  with  his  usual  severity, 
and  the  latter  was  disposed  to  retaliate  by  a  challenge, 
but  was,  as  he  admits,  too  poor  to  travel  to  Edinburgh  for 
that  purpose.  Jeffrey  however,  soon  afterward  came  to 
London,  and  a  duel  was  then  arranged.  The  parties  met 
early  one  summer  morning,  but  before  a  shot  could  be 
fired  they  were  seized  by  the  police  which  had  been 
secreted  for  the  purpose.  The  field  of  honor  was  immedi- 
ately changed  into  a  theme  of  ridicule,  and  botli  combat- 
ants were  held  to  bail.  To  this  affair  Byron  refers  in 
those  pungent  lines  beginning  "  Health  to  great  Jeffrey : " 

"Can  none  remember  that  eventful  day, 
That  ever  glorious,  almost  fatal  fray, 
When  Little's  leadless  pistol  met  his  eye. 
And  Bow  street  myrmidons  stood  laughing  by? 

The  above  was  leveled  at  JeflVey,  but  of  course  included 
Moore  who  was  full  of  pluck,  and  would  not  be  the  butt 
of  a  "  rhyming  peer."  lie,  therefore,  called  Byron's 
attention  to  the  offensive  lines  in  a  letter,  which  mio;ht 
have  led  to  a  challenge.  Byron  however,  disclaimed  all 
intention  of  reflecting  on  personal  character.  The  result 
was  that  the  two  poets  met  at  Rogers'  and  formed  a  life- 
long friendship.  Byron  wrote  more  letters  to  Moore  than 
to  any  other  of  his  correspondents,  and  he  also  committed 
to  him  his  autobiographic  memoirs  to  be  published  after 
death.  Wlien  the  latter  occurred  however,  the  volume 
was  suppressed  by  Lady  Byron  who  paid  £2,000  for  this 
privilege.  Moore  and  Byron  could  agree  better  than  poets 
generally,  since  their  difference  in  style  prevented  any 
rivalry. 


80  Odk  Book. 

Byron  knew  that  liis  life  would  be  written  by  some 
one  and  he  designated  Moore  to  this  task,  adding  "  1  have 
a  strong  presentiment  tliat  you  will  outlive  me.  The 
difference  of  a  few  years  in  our  age  is  nothing."  Such 
proved  to  be  the  case,  and  Moore  was  one  of  the  last 
survivors  of  that  limited  circle  which  could  boast  of 
acquaintance  with  the  author  of  Childe  Harold.  In 
obedience  to  Byron's  request  he  wrote  his  biography, 
which  naturally  was  influenced  by  friendship.  Impar- 
tiality indeed  under  such  circumstances  was  not  to  be 
expected. 

FoREiGK  Life. 

Pending  the  settlement  of  his  Bermuda  troubles  Moore 
was  obliged  to  leave  London  to  avoid  arrest,  and  one  of 
the  most  interesting  scenes  which  occurred  during  this 
exile  was  his  re-union  with  Byron  in  Venice.  It  was  of 
brief  duration  and  was  never  renewed.  Moore  could  not 
but  notice  that  Byron  had  worsened  during  his  residence 
in  Italy,  and  had  also  acquired  a  reckless  method  of  utter- 
ance, which  was  shown  by  such  remarks  as  this  :  "  Moore, 
what  do  you  think  of  Shakespeare?  I  think  him  a  hum- 
bug." He  also  noticed,  as  did  others,  that  Byron  was 
deteriorating  in  genius  as  well  as  in  morals.  Byron  soon 
introduced  him  to  the  Countess  Giuccioli,  and  made  no 
secret  of  the  nature  of  their  intimacy.  At  Paris  Moore 
became  acquainted  with  Irving,  who  was  his  junior  by 
four  years,  and  this  led  to  a  friendship  only  sundered  by 
death.  Moore  was  then  living  with  great  economy, 
which  was  one  of  Bessie's  virtues,  and  Irving  describes 
the  pleasant  scenes  which  marked  their  simple  method  of 
housekeeping, 

Moore  was  one  of  tlie  best  paid  authors,  received  £3,000 
for  Lalla  Kookh,  and  his  receipts  from  other  productions 
in  all  amounted  to  seven  times  that  sura,  but  his  latter  days 


Mooke's  Misfortune.  '81 

were  shadowed  by  poverty  as  well  as  by  bereavement. 
The  latter  includes  the  loss  of  his  deeply  beloved  sisters, 
and  also  his  daughters  Anastasia  and  Barbara.  In  addi- 
tion to  this  was  the  overwhemling  blow  which  came  in  his 
old  age,  the  death  of  his  sons,  one  of  whom  (named  after 
himself)  found  a  grave  in  a  far-distant  land.  Moore,  in 
fact,  not  only  survived  his  parents  and  all  their  family, 
but  all  of  his  own  except  the  faithful  Bessie,  Who  that 
saw  Tom  Moore  in  his  palmy  days,  when  he  was  the  chief 
attraction  in  many  a  brilliant  re- union,  could  have  fore- 
cast such  a  history  ?  But  alas,  how  often  is  this  the  fate 
of  genius! 

Moore  lived  for  nearly  thirty  years  in  "  Sloperton  Co*^- 
tage,"  where  he  finished  his  days  on  the  26th  of  Febru- 
ary, 1852,  being  in  his  seventy-third  year.  He  had  suf- 
fered two  years  of  mental  paralysis,  and  hence  death  was 
only  to  be  viewed  as  a  relief.  He  was  buried  in  the 
neighboring  church-yard  beside  the  graves  of  his  four 
children.  Thirteen  years  afterward  Bessie  was  placed  by 
those  she  so  tenderly  loved  and  so  faithfully  cherished.  It 
was  said  of  Moore,  by  one  who  knew  him  well,  that  amid 
the  pleasures  of  the  world  he  had  preserved  all  his  home 
affections.  Moore  indeed  was  of  an  overflowing  dispo- 
sition, and  his  letters,  like  his  poetry  are  full  of  soul. 
He  wrote  to  his  mother  twice  a  week,  and  this  corre- 
spondence breathes  an  ardor  of  filial  affection  which 
warms  the  reader  with  sympathy.  It  was  no  doubt,  this 
enthusiasm  of  friendship  which  awoke  the  admiration 
of  Byron,  and  to  no  other  human  being  did  the  latter 
write  with  such  entire  freedom.  As  there  can  never  be 
but  one  Byron,  so  there  can  never  be  but  one  Tom  Moore. 
The  first  has  a  higher  rank  in  point  of  genius,  but  the 
latter  though  his  greatest  efforts  are  no  longer  read,  will 
always  hold  the  heart  by  his  songs,  and  the  Last  Hose  of 
11 


82  Our  Book. 

Sammer  and  tlie  Meeting  of  the  Waters  will  be  sung  as 
long  as  emotional  sentiment  is  cherished. 

LiTKRARY  Sisters. 

Tlie  histor}'  of  those  remarkable  sisters  —  Charlotte, 
Emily  and  Anno  Bronte  —  illustrates  in  a  very  interest- 
ing manner,  the  risks  of  authorship.  They  lived  with 
their  father  in  a  secluded  hamlet  in  the  north  of  England, 
and  being  desirous  of  issuing  a  volume  of  poems,  wrote 
to  a  publishing  house  and  arranged  to  have  the  book 
printed  at  the  authors'  expense.  The  volume  fell  dead 
from  the  press,  and  the  girls  remitted  the  bill,  which  was 
equal  to  about  $250.  This  was  a  heavy  loss  but  it  was 
borne  without  complaint.  These  poems  weie  published 
as  the  production  of  three  brothers  —  Currer,  Ellis  and 
Acton  Bell  —  and  the  best  notice  which  they  received  was 
accorded  to  the  poems  of  Ellis  (Emily)  wdio  was  consid- 
ered by  Charlotte  the  most  gifted  of  the  family. 

The  ambitious  sisters  determined  to  continue  their 
efforts  notwithstanding  this  failure.  Charlotte  had  writ- 
ten a  novel  which  she  sent  to  a  publisher,  who  returned 
it.  She  then  sent  it  successively  to  six  other  houses,  each 
of  which  declined  it.  While  this  work  was  going  the 
rounds  Charlotte  began  Jane  Eyre,  which  she  determined 
to  make  more  sensational,  and  she  succeeded  far  beyond 
her  expectations.  The  MSS.  was  sent  to  the  house  of 
Smith,  Elder  &  Co.,  and  was  published  at  their  risk.  I 
need  hardly  add  that  it  had  a  ready  sale. 

Later  on  the  author  and  her  sister  Anne  went  to  Lon- 
don to  see  the  publishers,  and  the  latter  were  astonished 
to  behold  two  diminutive  young  women,  clad  in  dress  of 
rural  simplicity,  representing  so  popular  a  book.  Char- 
lotte had  Smith,  Elder  &  Co.'s  business  correspondence 
as  a  proof  of  her  identity,  and  this  removed  all  doubt. 


LiTEKARY  Sisters.  83 

Then  for  the  first  time,  the  publishers  learned  that  Cur- 
rer  Bell,  whom  they  supposed  to  be  a  man,  was  a  delicate 
girl,  whose  opportunities  to  study  society  had  been  of  a 
very  limited  character. 

Prior  to  the  Brontes,  though  hardly  equal  in  literary  rank, 
were  the  sisters  Sophia  and  Harriet  Lee,  who  held  distinc- 
tion in  London  authorship)  during  the  early  part  of  the  pres- 
ent century.  They  wrote  both  novels  and  plays,  but  their 
best  mutual  production  was  the  once  poj3ular  Canterbui-y 
Tales.  From  one  of  these — Kreuitzner — Byron  drew  the 
plan  and  also  the  details  of  his  tragedy  of  Werner.  He 
acknowledges,  in  the  preface,  his  debt  to  tlicse  gifted  sis- 
ters, who  were  gratified  to  assist  the  greatest  poet  of  the  age. 

The  Porters. 

Another  literary  family  of  much  brighter  fortune  is 
found  in  the  sisters  Jane  and  Anna  Porter,  whose  gifted 
brother  added  much  to  their  position.  The  sisters  were 
successful  novelists,  and  the  brother  became  an  artist,  a 
soldier  and  a  diplomat,  being  known  in  history  as  Sir 
Robert  Ker  Porter.  It  may  be  added  in  order  to  show 
how  a  fortunate  selection  of  a  subject  may  assist  an  author, 
that  while  Anna  Porter's  novels  are  forgotten,  her  sister's 
still  hold  a  place  in  literature,  because  the  theme  retains 
a  power  over  the  younger  portion  of  tlie  reading  public. 
I  allude,  of  course,  to  Thaddeus  of  Warsaw  and  the 
Scottish  Chiefs. 

The  Davidsons. 

Plattsburg  is  Justly  proud  of  the  memory  of  Lucretia 
and  Margaret  Davidson.  The  first  was  born  in  1808. 
She  wrote  verses  in  early  childhood,  and  one  of  her  pro- 
ductions at  nine  is  still  preserved.  Before  her  sixteenth 
year  she  had  written  more  than  three  hundred  pieces, 
many  of   which   were   deemed    worthy   of   publication. 


84  OuK  Book. 

Sucli  early  brain  activity  was  too  exhausting  for  a 
delicate  frame,  and  she  died  in  her  seventeenth  year. 
Her  sister  Margaret,  who  was  also  a  literary  prodigy, 
died  at  fifteen.  It  is  a  sufficient  proof  of  the  rank  held 
by  this  gifted  pair  that  Irving  honored  them  with  a  brief 
memoir. 

Warners  and  Carys. 

The  Warner  sisters — Susan  and  Anna  —  though  not 
recluse  were  very  retiring.  Hence  but  little  is  known 
of  their  personal  characteristics.  Their  works,  however, 
hold  distinction  in  American  literature,  and  the  Wide 
Wide  World  was,  with  but  one  exception,  the  most  popu- 
lar novel  of  its  day.  Much  more  is  known  of  the  melo- 
dious sisters  Alice  and  Phebe  Gary,  who  for  more  than 
twenty  years  were  numbered  among  the  New  York 
literati,  and  who  gradually  rose  from  poverty  to  compe- 
tence by  their  poetic  offerings.  The  Carys  wei*e  natives 
of  Ohio,  their  Iiome  being  so  sequestered  as  to  afford  but 
few  advantages.  Their  early  struggles  were  such  as  are 
common  to  the  children  of  genius,  and  they  were  at  first 
glad  to  see  their  poems  in  a  country  newspaper.  Alice 
began  writing  at  eighteen  and  Phebe  was  still  younger 
when  her  first  efforts  attracted  attention. 

In  1849,  when  Alice  was  twenty -nine  and  Phebe  was 
four  years  younger,  their  first  combined  effort  appeared 
in  a  volume  of  poems.  Two  years  afterward  they 
removed  to  New  York  and  entered  the  field  of  literature 
in  which  they  gradually  won  distinction.  Eventually 
their  house  was  a  popular  resort  for  literary  characters 
and  their  reception  evenings  were  a  favorite  resort  for 
Horace  Greeley  whenever  he  could  steal  away  from  his 
engagements.  The  greatest  work,  however,  in  which 
these  sisters   were   engaged    was   the   establishment   of 


Authors'  Loicgevity.  85 

Sorosis,  the  woman's  club,  which  still  flourishes  and  is  a 
noble  gathering  of  the  best  elements  in  the  sex.  The 
Gary  sisters  retained  their  distinction  to  the  last,  and 
what  seems  very  remarkable  they  both  died  the  same  year, 
and  six  months  from  the  time  Alice  was  laid  to  rest  in 
Greenwood,  Phebe  was  laid  by  her  side. 

Greater  Longevity. 
Notwithstanding  the  frequent  instances  of  early  death 
among  female  authors,  it  is  still  evident  that  brain  workers 
of  that  sex  have,  as  a  class  reached  more  than  average 
age  and  have  had  a  full  share  of  health  and  happiness. 
Here  are  a  few  instances  from  the  records  of  the  old  world. 
Grace  Aguilar  died  at  thirty-one  ;  Miss  Landon,  the  once 
popular  L.  E.  L.,  married  Captain  MacLean  and  accom- 
panied her  husband  to  the  coast  of  Africa  where  she  died 
in  her  thirty-sixth  year ;  Jane  Taylor  died  at  forty  and 
Mrs.  Hemans  was  a  year  older;  Jane  Austen  was  forty- 
two  ;  Mrs.  Shelley  was  fifty-three  and  Charlotte  Elizabeth 
fifty-four ;  the  Countess  of  Blessington  was  sixty ;  Fred- 
erika  Bremer,  sixty-four;  Mrs.  Inchbald,  sixty-seven; 
Miss  Mitford,  sixtj'^-nine ;  while  Jane  Porter  and  Mrs. 
Ilofland  were  each  seventy -four ;  Mrs.  Sherwood  reached 
seventy-seven  and  Regina  Maria  Roche  was  eighty  ;  Lady 
Morgan,  Mrs.  Barbauld,  Mrs.  Piozzi  and  Miss  Edgeworth 
each  died  at  eighty-two ;  Hannah  Moore  and  Madame 
D'Arblay  both  Avere  eighty-eight,  and  Joanna  Baillie, 
eighty-nine ;  Elizabeth  Carter  died  at  ninety,  and  Miss 
Caroline  Herschell,  the  astronomer,  only  lacked  two  years 
of  a  full  century.  Taking  a  few  names  from  the  Ameri- 
can record :  Maria  Brooks,  whom  Southey  admired, 
was  fifty;  Helen  Hunt,  fifty-five  and  Louisa  Alcott, 
fifty-six ;  Mrs.  Parton  (Fanny  Fern)  was  sixty-one ;  Mrs. 
Sigourney,    seventy -four ;    Hannah    F.    Gould,    seventy- 


86  Our  Book. 

seven,  while  both  Hannah  Adams  and  Mrs.  Sedgewick 
reached  seventy-eight;  Juha  Ward  Howe  is  sixty-nine; 
Mrs.  Stowe  is  now  seventy-six,  and  her  sister  Catharine 
was  spared  till  four-score. 

Joel  Baelow. 

The  first  book  published  on  this  continent  after  the 
close  of  the  revolution  was  Watts'  Psalms,  edited 
by  Joel  Barlow,  which  was  issued  in  Hartford  in  1785. 
Barlow  was  then  thirty.  He  was  a  native  of  Connecticut, 
and  had  studied  at  Yale,  where  in  1778  he  delivered  a 
poem  entitled  the  Prospect  of  Peace.  His  poetic 
talents  had  already  attracted  notice,  and  this  led  the  clergy 
to  request  that  he  should  prepare  an  edition  of  Watts  for 
public  worship.  He  also  edited  a  weekly  paper  in  Hart- 
ford called  the  American  Mercury,  but  afterward  added 
law  to  literature.  He  had  however,  already  contemplated 
what  he  considered  his  great  poem,  The  Columbiad. 
This  was  not  completed  until  the  lapse  of  twenty  years, 
but  its  inception  was  given  in  the  Vision  of  Columbus, 
which  was  published  the  year  our  government  was  formed. 

Pursuing  this  reminiscence,  it  may  be  added  that  Bar- 
low went  to  Europe  soon  after  issuing  the  Yision,  and 
was  the  first  American  author  that  visited  Great  Britain 
after  the  close  of  the  war.  He  sympathized  with  the 
French  re\olutionists,  to  whom  he  rendered  some  diplo- 
matic service,  and  on  his  return  in  1805  he  was  the  best- 
informed  American  on  the  subject  of  foreign  affairs.  He 
was  then  fifty,  and  his  ripe  experience  rendered  him 
highly  useful  to  the  general  government.  He  made 
Washington  his  abode  and  erected  an  elegant  house. 

Two  years  afterward  his  great  work.  The  Columbiad, 
appeared.  It  was  published  in  Philadelphia  and  was  the 
most  costly  book  which,  up  to  that  time,  had  ever  been 


Joel  Barlow.  87 

issued  in  tliis  country.     It  was  dedicated  to  Robert  Fulton, 

of  steamboat  fame,  and  was  graced  by  a  portrait  of  the 

author,   together   with  eleven    copper-plate   illustrations 

executed  in  London.     The  author  expected  that  this  work 

would  permanently  retain  its  distinction  as  the  greatest  of 

American  poems. 

It  was  read  and  admired,  but  hke  many  other  works  of 

temporary  value  it  gradually  sank  out  of  sight,  and  it  is 

not  probable  that  another  edition   will  ever  be  printed. 

Its  prophecy  of  future  development  is  one  of  its  mt»st 

striking  features,  of  which  the  following  is  an  instance : 

"  From  Mohawk's  mouth  far  westing  with  the  sun, 
Through  all  the  woodlands  recent  channels  run. 
Tap  the  redundant  lakes,  the  broad  hills  brave, 
And  marry  Hudson  with  Missouri's  wave. 
From  dim  Superior,  whose  unfathomed  sea 
Drinks  the  mild  splendor  of  tiie  setting  day, 
New  paths  unfolding  lead  their  watery  pride, 
And  towns  and  empires  rise  along  their  side. 
To  Mississippi's  source  tlie  passes  bend 
And  to  the  broad  Pacific  main  extend." 

How  wonderfully  tliis  prophecy  has  been  fultilled  dur- 
ing the  eighty  years  of  interval ! 

The  Columbiad  at  once  gave  Barlow  national  dis- 
tinction, and  this  led  him  to  project  a  full  history  of  the 
country,  but  his  plans  were  broken  by  the  call  to  diplo- 
matic service.  Madison  needed  an  ambassador  to  France, 
and  there  was  no  one  so  well  adapted  to  this  service  as 
Joel  Barlow.  On  reaching  Paris  he  found  that  the  dream 
of  liberty  and  its  bloody  frenzy  had  given  place  to  the 
still  more  bloody  despotism  of  Napoleon.  He  beheld  the 
march  of  the  deluded  conqueror  to  Moscow  with  an  army 
of  nearly  half  a  million,  so  few  of  whom  ever  returned. 
Four  months  afterward  came  the  sad  tidings  of  the  fail- 
ure of  the  expedition,  accompanied  by  a  request  from 
Napoleon  that  Barlow  should  meet  him  at  "Wilna.  His 
object  was  never  published,  but  it   is  probable  that  he 


88  OuK  Book. 

wished  to  obtain  troops  from  America  to  renew  an  army 
sacrificed  to  liis  ambition. 

The  Last  Scene  in  Life. 
Barlow  obeyed  Napoleon's  request  and,  attended  by 
his  private  secretary,  hastened  to  the  appointed  spot,  but 
the  expected  meeting  never  took  place.  The  exposure 
of  the  journey  and  the  wretched  condition  of  the  Polisli 
inns  reduced  his  health,  and  on  the  22d  of  December, 
1812,  he  died  of  pneumonia  near  Cracow,  where  he  lies 
in  an  obscure  grave.  His  last  days  were  saddened  by 
scenes  of  horror,  for  he  beheld  the  wretched  remnant 
of  Napoleon's  army  perishing  by  frost  and  famine  on  the 
borders  of  Poland.  These  scenes  gave  his  genius  its  last 
inspiration,  and  being  unable  to  use  the  pen,  he  dictated 
the  most  tremendous  indictment  which  the  poetic  muse 
ever  delivered  against  the  imperial  tyrant.  It  is  called 
Advice  to  a  Raven,  and  closes  with  the  hope  of 

"Earth's  total  vengeauce  on  the  monster's  head." 

Hasty  Pudding. 

This  is  a  mucli  better  poem  than  the  Vision  of  Colum- 
bus because  it  shows  how  a  simple  theme  can  be  treated 
in  a  poetic  manner.  It  was  written  con  amove  as  may  be 
seen  from  the  following  extract : 

"My  father  loved  thee  through  his  length  of  days; 
For  thee  his  fields  were  shaded  o'er  with  maize; 
Thy  constellation  ruled  my  natal  morn ; 
And  all  my  bones  were  made  of  Indian  corn. 
Delicious  grain  whatever  form  it  take, 
To  roast  or  boil,  to  smother,  or  to  bake ; 
In  every  dish  'tis  welcome  still  to  me ; 
But  most,  my  hasty  pudding,  most  in  thee." 

A  very  interesting  feature  in  the  history  of  this  poem 
is  the  fact  that  it  was  written  in  Europe.  Barlow  was  one 
of  the  earliest  American  visitors  thither  after  the  revolu- 


Joel  Barlow.  89 

tion,  and  of  course,  he  missed  his  favorite  dish.  What- 
ever might  be  the  treasures  of  Paris,  there  was  no  hasty 
pudding,  and  he  indignantlj^  exclaims  : 

"For  thee  through  Paris  —  that  corrupted  town  — 
How  long  in  vain  I  wandered  up  and  down. " 

No  doubt  this  sharpened  appetite  assisted  inspiration, 

for  on  reaching  Savoy  he  found  a  family   which  had 

brouglit  the  meal  from  America  and  knew  how  to  cook 

it.     Hence  he  says  : 

"Dear  hasty  pudding,  what  unpromised  joy 
Expands  my  heart  to  meet  tliee  in  Savoy! 
My  soul  is  soothed,  my  cares  have  found  an  end 
In  thee  my  lost  but  not  forgotten  friend. 
Yes,  here,  though  distant  from  our  native  shore, 
With  mutual  glee  we  meet  and  laugli  once  more." 

Hasty  Pudding  is  a  national  and  also  a  pliilanthropic 
poem,  and  the  author,  to  show  his  earnestness  in  an  at- 
tempt to  dignify  a  plebeian  dish,  dedicated  it  to  Mrs. 
AVashington.  He  gives  as  a  reason  that  he  desires  her 
influence  to  combat  vicious  tastes  (in  cookery)  and  to  re- 
store simplicity  of  diet,  and  he  adds : 

"  I  had  hopes  of  doing  some  good,  or  I  should  not  have  taken 
the  pains  of  putting  so  many  rhymes  together  —  or  ventured  to 
place  your  name  at  their  head." 

Barlow  was  one  of  the  first  to  notice  the  bad  effect  of 

modern  cookery,  which  awoke  the  following  lament : 

"To  mix  the  food  by  vicious  rules  of  art, 
To  kill  the  stomach  and  to  sink  the  heart: 
For  this  the  kitchen  muse  first  framed  her  book, 
Conunanding  sweets  from  every  artful  cook. 
Children  no  more  their  antic  gambols  tried, 
And  friends  to  physic  wondered  why  they  died." 

To  "sink  the  heart"  of  course  refers  to  dyspepsia, 

which  is  one  of  the  cornmon  consequences  of  artificial 

living,  and  the  improving  nature  of  Barlow's  favorite 

dish  is  suggested  in  the  following  couplet : 

"  To  shield  the  morals  while  it  mends  the  size, 
And  ail  tlie  powers  of  every  food  supplies." 

13 


90  Our  Book. 

How  impressive  indeed  is  the  contrast  between  modern 
luxury  and  tlie  privations  elieerfully  endured  by  tlie  Pil- 
grims  as  given  in  :i  liulliid  of  that  day  : 

"If  fresh  meat  be  wanting  to  fill  up  the  dish, 
We  have  carrots  and  turnips  as  mueli  as  we  wish: 
We  have  pumpkins  at  morning  and  pumpkins  at  noon, 
If  it  was  not  for  pumpkins  we  should  be  undone. 
If  barley  be  wanting  to  nuike  into  malt, 
We  must  be  contented  to  think  it  no  fault. 
For  we  can  make  liquor  to  sweeten  our  lips, 
Of  pumpkins  and  parsnips  and  walnut  tree  chips." 

What  a  patched  up  set  the  colonists  must  have  been  ! 

"  And  now  our  garments  begin  to  grow  thin. 
And  wool  is  much  wanted  to  card  and  to  spin: 
If  we  can  get  a  garment  to  cover  without, 
Our  other  in  garments  are  clout  upon  clout. 
Our  clothes  we  brought  with  us  are  apt  to  be  torn; 
They  need  to  be  clouted  soon  after  they're  worn : 
liut  clouting  our  garments  they  hinder  us  nothing. 
Clouts  double  are  warmer  than  single  whole  clothing." 

Another  striking  picture  is  given  in  a  poem  written  by 
Benjamin  Thompson  a  half  century  later: 

"The  times  when  old  Pumpkin  was  a  saint, 
When  men  fared  hardly,  yet  without  complaint, 
The  dainty  Indian  maize 

Was  eat  with  clam  shells  out  of  wooden  traya. 
Under  thatched  lints,  without  cry  of  rent, 
And  the  best  sauce  to  every  dish,  content: 
'I'hen  times  were  good,  merchants  cared  not  a  rush 
For  other  fare  than  jonakin  and  mush." 

Jonakin  (the  original  of  johnny  cake)  and  mush,  would 
now  hardly  be  attractive  fare,  but  what  a  sturdy  race  was 
bred  upon  it!  No  wonder  Joel  Barlow  sang  its  praise. 

Little  survives  of  Barlow's  epics,  but  in  Hasty  Pudding 
he  gives  us  the  "  man  of  straw,"  and  who  has  not  heard 
that  term  nsed  to  represent  the  shams  of  the  day  ?  It  is 
introduced  when  speaking  of  the  scarecrow. 

"The  feathered  robber  with  his  hungry  maw, 
Swift  flies  tl»e  field  before  your  man  of  utratc." 


Book  Making.  91 

Modern  bibliomania  originated  in  Holland  more  tlian  a 

century  after  the  invention  of  printing,  and  was  no  doubt 

due  to  the  taste  exhibited  by  the  Elzevirs.     This  famous 

family  of  printers  flourished  from  15vS0  to  a  century  later, 

and  their  publications  naturally  improved  with  increased 

experience.     From  Holland  the  mania  spread  to  England. 

Its  growth  however,  was  im])eded   by  the  civil  wars,  so 

that  its  influence  was  not  felt  before  the  days  of  Pope. 

He  was  the  flrst  writer  to  make  any  allusion  to  a  feature 

which  was  so  powerful  both  in  Sir  Hans  Sloane  and  the 

Earl  of  Harley.     This  rage  for  old  volumes  led  Pope  to 

pen  the  following  pungent  couplet : 

"  Authors,  like  coins,  grow  rare,  as  they  grow  old; 
It  is  the  rust  we  value,  not  the  gold." 

This  indeed,  is  the  rule  which  generally  controls  the 
book  collector.  No  matter  what  the  subject  be  if  the 
volume  only  has  the  merit  of  age  and  rarity. 

Sometimes  bibliomaniacs  confine  themselves  to  special- 
ties. For  instance.  Poulard  of  France  spent  a  large  sum 
gathering  the  varied  editions  of  Racine,  and  James  Lenox 
devoted  much  time  and  money  to  his  collection  of  Pibles. 
Another  speciaHst  was  Dr.  Douglas  of  London,  who  ex- 
hibited an  insatiable  passion  for  the  works  of  Horace. 
He  eventually  owned  specimens  of  every  edition  which 
had  been  issued  of  this  famous  poet,  and  also  every  trans- 
lation and  critical  commentary.  Douglas  was  an  excel- 
lent physician  whose  rich  fees  enabled  him  to  thus  indulge 
his  peculiar  taste.  No  other  classic  shared  his  affection. 
He  was  simply  under  an  Horatian  madness,  and  there- 
fore gathered  all  the  lumber  that  came  under  this  caption 
to  the  extent  of  nearly  500  volumes. 

Gibbon,  on  the  other  hand,  though  a  man  of  great 
learning  and  a  life-long  student,  only  loved  books  for 
their  contents.     He  mentions  in  his  autobiography  the 


02  OuK  Book. 

pleasure  with  wliich  he  exchanged  a  twenty  pound  note 
for  as  many  vohimes  of  an  instructive  cliaracter,  but  he 
adds  that  he  bought  no  book  except  for  its  sohd  vahie. 

Costly  Books. 

The  most  costly  literary  undertaking  ever  attempted 
by  a  single  individual  was  the  Aborigines  of  Mexico, 
published  by  Lord  Kingsborough,  at  an  expense  equal  to 
$170,000.  It  is  in  seven  immense  volumes,  with  one 
thousand  illustrations  of  the  finest  character.  The  num- 
ber of  copies  issued  was  limited  to  fifty,  and  many  of 
these  were  presented  to  the  most  important  public  libra- 
ries of  Europe.  A  copy  of  this  wonderful  book  is  in  the 
Philadelphia  library. 

Lord  Kingsborough  was  an  enthusiast  on  this  subject, 
and  like  all  enthusiasts  he  went  to  a  ridiculous  extreme. 
He  gratified  his  taste  at  the  expense  of  all  other  interests. 
The  cost  was  greater  than  either  his  expectations  or  his 
resources.  He  was  involved  in  law,  and  after  many  vexa- 
tious suits  he  finished  his  course  in  a  Dublin  jail. 

John  Boydell,  of  London,  assisted  by  Nichols,  spent  a 
large  fortune  in  publishing  fine  books.  They  invested 
£350,000  in  perfecting  printing  and  engraving,  and  they 
sunk  in  their  Shakespeare  gallery  £100,000,  equal  to  a  half 
million  of  dollars.  Audubon's  Birds  is  the  most  costly 
book  ever  published  in  America,  each  copy  being  origi- 
nally priced  at  $700.  The  pictures  are  of  natural  size, 
and  the  artist  spent  the  largest  part  of  his  life  in  the 
work.  At  the  sale  of  A.  T.  Stewart's  books  a  copy  of 
Audubon's  Birds  sold  for  $1,350;  another  has  recently 
been  sold  at  $2,450.  The  plates  are  still  in  existence, 
but  it  is  not  probable  that  another  edition  will  be  printed. 

One  book  alone  is  on  record  as  being  printed  in  an  edi- 
tion of  one  copy.     This  is  a  history  of  the  house  of  Kiis- 


Book  Making.  93 

sell,  including  elaborate  portraits  of  all  its  peers.  It  cost 
3,000  guineas,  and  was  placed  in  the  library  of  "Woburn 
Abbey,  wlicre  the  duke  resides,  with  orders  never  to  be 
removed.  The  edition  of  the  Greek  Testament,  pub- 
lished by  Erasmus,  at  Basle  in  1519,  was  very  limited, 
and  all  have  been  lost  except  one  copy,  wliich  is  in  the 
cathedral  at  York.  An  offer  of  5,000  guineas  for  this 
literary  curiosity  has  been  refused. 

A  beautiful  co})y  of  Owen  Jones's  Alhambra  was  ex- 
hibited at  the  Crystal  Palace  in  New  York  in  1852.  It 
was  bound  by  Matthews,  then  the  best  binder  in  America, 
whose  bill  was  $500,  and  it  may  be  considered  a  moderate 
charge,  as  the  woi'k  required  six  months.  It  is  the  most 
costly  specimen  of  binding  in  this  country. 

Some  men  have  a  passion  for  collecting  Bibles.  There 
are  two  hundred  copies  in  the  Astor  library  of  different 
editions,  which  one  might  think  a  sufficient  variety,  but 
the  late  Duke  of  Sussex  had  six  thousand  different  edi- 
tions of  the  Bible  (or  of  portions  of  it),  which  is  the 
largest  collection  of  the  kind  in  existence.  These  collec- 
tions are  generally  dispersed  after  their  owner's  death. 
If  any  man  wishes  to  keep  liis  collection  from  a  general 
breaking  up,  he  must  like  James  Lenox,  devise  it  to 
some  institution  where  it  will  have  permanent  care. 
Among  other  collectors  of  rare  works  was  Robert  Har- 
ley  Earl  of  Oxford,  who  flourished  during  the  reign  of 
Queen  Anne.  Ilis  library  is  now  one  of  the  treasures  of 
the  British  Museum,  and  a  selection  from  his  manuscripts 
forms  what  is  called  tlie  Ilarleian  Miscellan}'.  This 
selection  was  made  by  Henry  Oldys,  who  was  the  most 
remarkable  book- worm  of  that  day.  In  1737  he  pub- 
lished the  British  Librarian,  an  Abstract  of  Our  Most 
Scarce  and  Valuable  Works,  and  thus  did  much  to  create 
a  ta=te  for  antique  literature.     Dr.  Johnson  wrote   the 


91  OuK  Book. 

preface  of  the  Harleian  Miscellany,  which  is  now  an  im- 
portant feature  in  all  first-class  libraries. 

Book  Yalues. 

There  was  a  time  when  a  book  was  almost  a  fortune. 
It  is  said  that  one  of  the  Saxon  kings  gave  eight  hundred 
acres  of  land  for  a  single  volume  —  in  manuscript  of 
course  —  for  there  was  no  printing  then.  The  first 
printed  volume  the  Bihlia  Pauperum^  or  Poor  man's 
Bible,  which  was  done  by  letters  engraved  on  blocks 
of  wood.  It  contains  about  thirty  pages  of  text  and 
is  supposed  to  have  been  printed  before  1400,  since 
movable  types  were  invented  in  1437.  In  1274  a  Bible 
in  vellum  in  nine  volumes  was  sold  at  a  price  equal  to 
more  than  eight  thousand  days'  work  of  a  laborer.  One 
of  the  finest  vellum  Bibles  is  the  copy  presented  by  his 
preceptor  to  Charlemagne  after  the  latter  had  learned  to 
read  —  being  then  forty-five.  In  universities  books  were 
formerly  loaned  on  a  deposit  ensuring  their  return,  and 
at  Oxford  the  Bible  was  frequently  borrowed  on  these 
conditions. 

The  oldest  manuscript  book  in  our  language  is  the  con- 
fessions of  Richard  Earl,  of  Cambridge,  which  bears  date 
1415,  and  the  earliest  ballad  is  the  cuckoo  song,  which 
begins  thus : 

"Sumer  is  icutnen  in, 
Lbude  sing  cuccu ; 
Groweth  red  and  bloweth  med 
And  springth  ye  wode  nu 

Singe  cuccu," 

Among  the  first  books  printed  in  our  language  is  the 
Recuyell  of  the  Historye  of  Troye,  issued  by  Caxton  in 
1471,  a  copy  of  which  is  in  the  Lenox  library.  The 
demand  for  so  great  a  curiosity  may  be  judged  from  the 
fact  that  while  iu  1756  a  copy  sold  at  nine  pounds,  the 


Book  Making.  95 

next  sale,  which  took  place  in  1812,  reached  £1,000,  and 
recently  another  sale  was  made  at  £1,820,  equal  to  $9,100. 
A  copy  of  Bocaecio''s  Decameron,  also  published  in  1471, 
recently  sold  for  £2,260. 

Lenox   Treasures. 

James  Lenox  was  a  life-time  making  his  collection,  and 
a  student  would  require  almost  an  equal  period  to  fully 
muster  its  contents.  The  gem  of  the  collection,  of  course, 
is  the  Mazzarin  Bible,  the  first  book  printed  with  mova-. 
ble  types.  Though  issued  without  date,  there  is  proof 
that  it  appeared  before  1456.  It  was  printed  at  Mayence 
and  is  in  two  volumes  containing  1282  pages.  There  are 
fifteen  copies  of  this  work  in  existence,  some  printed  on 
])aper  and  others  on  vellum,  which  are  much  more  val- 
uable. The  Lenox  copy  is  in  vellum,  and  is,  in  other 
respects,  one  of  the  best.  The  ink  is  jet  black,  and 
the  impression  is  clear.  The  type  is  German  text,  and 
the  language  is  Latin.     Its  value  is  $17,000, 

The  Lenox  library  contains  three  thousand  Bibles,  one 
of  which,  printed  at  Nuremberg  in  1467,  has  Melanc- 
thon's  autograph.  Another  is  the  firot  Bible  that  has  a 
date,  the  time  and  place  being  Mcntz,  1462.  There  is 
also  a  copy  of  the  Biblia  Pauperum,  printed  from  blocks 
before  1400.  The  total  number  of  Bibles  and  parts  of 
the  Bible  is  3500.  Another  rare  volume  is  the  Bay  Psalm 
Book,  the  first  volume  printed  in  America,  and  worth 
$1,000 ;  and  to  this  is  added  Eliot's  Indian  Bible,  which 
has  been  sold  for  $1,340.  There  is  a  copy  of  the  first 
Homer,  printed  in  Florence  in  1488,  and  also  one  of 
Dante's  Divine  Comraedia,  dated  twenty-four  years 
earlier. 

The  rare  and  curious  editions  of  Shakespeare  give  the 
Lenox  peculiar  distinction,  since  in  this  specialty  it  has 


96  Our  Book. 

no  equal  in  America.  One  may  behold  not  only  the  first 
collected  edition  published  in  1623,  but  also  editions  of 
single  plays  issued  during  the  author's  life-time,  which 
is  very  clear  proof  that  Bacon  made  no  claim  to  their 
authorship.     One  of  these  has  the  following  title  page : 

"The  Tragedie  of  King  Richard  the  third  containing  his  treach- 
erous plot  against  his  brother  Clarence  and  the  pittyfull  murther 
of  tlie  innocent  nephew  his  tyranical  Vsurpation  with  the  whole 
account  of  his  detested  life  and  deserved  death  As  hath  been 
lately  acted  by  the  Kings  Majesties  servants  newly  augmented  by 
William  Shakespeare  London  printed  by  Thomas  Credie  and  are 
to  be  sold  by  Matthew  Lowe  at  St.  Pauls  church  yard  1612." 

This  copy  is  valued  at  $2,000,  and  was  obtained  by 
Lenox  with  great  difiiculty  many  years  ago.  At  present 
it  would  not  be  easy  to  replace  it  at  any  price. 

Gray  and  Gay  were  contemporary  poets  and  yet  how 
different !  Gray  sang  of  those  "  far  from  the  madding 
crowds  ignoble  strife,"  while  Gay  rhymed  on  the  Streets 
of  London  and  their  madding  crowds.  "  Trivia"  seems 
a  strange  name  for  such  a  poem,  but  the  word  means 
the  goddess  of  streets  and  also  the  meeting  of  three  roads, 
from  wliich  we  have  the  word  "  trivial,"  i.  e.  mere  street 
talk.  Gay  gives  a  view  of  street  life  in  the  days  of 
Pope  and  Addison  —  miserable  indeed  when  contrasted 
with  the  present.  "Trivial"  as  a  derivation  from  the 
streets,  is  no  more  remote  than  "  scrupulous,"  which 
originally  means  a  stone  in  one's  shoe,  or  "  bead,"  \vhich 
means  a  prayer,  and  these  instances  show  in  how  strange 
a  manner  derivations  oceasionallv  arise. 

Literary  Frauds. 
One  of  the  most  remarkable  books  in  the  Astor  is  the 
volume  on  Formosa,  by  George  Psalmanazar.  It  is  the 
earliest  literary  fraud,  at  least  of  any  extent,  and  its  com- 
bination of  audacity  and  skill  for  a  time  commanded  cre- 
dence, but  the  imposture  was  soon  suspected,  and  cventu- 


Book  Making.  97 

aiij  the  author  confessed.  The  book  is  gotten  up  in  a 
style  Avhieh,  at  that  time,  was  verj'  elegant,  and  is  illus- 
trated by  copper- j)late  engraviogs  of  an  elaborate  and  ex- 
pensive character.  It  is  highly  probable  that  the  success 
of  this  fictitious  narrative  led  Swift  to  write  Gulliver's 
Travels,  in  which  he  found  such  a  ready  medium  for  his 
wit. 

To  return  to  Psalmanazar,  it  is  evident  that  this  char- 
latan possessed  more  than  usual  talent,  and  though  a  for- 
eigner he  wrote  good  English.  He  also  gave  samples  of 
the  Formosan  language,  which  displayed  no  little  inge- 
nuity, and  upon  the  whole,  he  was  one  of  the  remarka- 
ble men  of  that  day.     The  title  of  the  book  is  as  follows  : 

''An  Historical  and  Geographical  Description  of  Formosa  —  An 
Island  subject  to  the  Empire  of  Japan. 

"  Second  edition  corrected,  with  many  large  and  usefull  additions, 
particularly  a  new  preface,  clearly  answering  every  thing  that  has 
been  objected  against  the  author  and  the  book.  By  George  Psal- 
manazar, a  native  of  the  Island.  London,  1704.  Published  by 
Bernard  Lintot." 

Psalmanazar  died  in  1763,  leavihgaMS.  autobiography, 

with  the  following  title  : 

"  Memoirs  of ,  commonly  known  by  the  name 

of  George  Psalmanazar,  a  reputed  native  of  Formosa." 

He  also  left  the  following  will : 

"Last  will  and  testament  of  me  a  poor,  sinful  and  worthless 
creature,  commonly  known  by  the  assumed  name  of  George 
Psalmanazar,  I  desire  my  body  to  be  conveyed  to  the  common 
burying  ground  and  there  interred  in  some  obscure  corner  and  in 
the  lowest  and  cheapest  manner  in  a  shell. 

"  The  principal  manuscript  I  leave  behind  isa  faithful  narrative 
of  my  education  and  the  various  ways  I  was  led  to  the  base  and 
shameful  imposture  of  passing  on  the  world  for  a  native  of 
Formosa  and  backing  it  with  a  ficticious  account  of  that  island, 
and  of  my  travels  and  conversion —  all  or  most  of  it  hatched  out 
of  my  own  brain  without  regard  to  truth  or  honesty.  It  is  true  I 
have  long  since  disclaimed  even  publicly  all  but  the  shame  and 
guilt  of  that  vile  imposition,  yet  as  long  as  I  knew  that  there  wero 
still  two  editions  of  that  scandalous  romance  remaining  in  Eng- 
land I  thought  it  incumbent  to  undeceive  the  world  by  a  posthu- 
mous work,  which  was  begun  25  years  ago. 

13 


98  Our  Book. 

"If  it  be  worth  printing  I  desire  it  to  be  sold  to  the  highest 
bidder  in  order  to  pay  arrears  for  my  lodging  and  defray  my 
funeral.  It  will  be  found  in  the  deep  drawer  on  the  right  hand 
of  my  white  cabinet." 

Sample  of  Formosan  Language. 
Psalmanazar's   ingenuity  in  inventing  a   language  is 
certainly  wonderful  and   being  called  on  for  a  sample 
he  gave  the  following  as  the  Lord's  Prayer. 

"  KOREAKA    VOMERA, 

"Amy  pornio  dau  chin  ornio  vrey  guay  jorhe  sai  lony  sysodore 
sai  bagalin  jorhe  sai  domion  apo  chin  ornio  kay  chin  bodi  eyen 
amy  khat  sodi  nadakchion  toye  ant  naday  Kay  donye  ant  amy 
sochin  apo  ant  radonem  amy  soch  takhin  bagne  ant  kai  chin 
malabooski  ah  abinaye  ant  twen  broskasy  kens  sai  vie  bogalin  kay 
faiy  kay  barhani  chinania  sen  ly     Amien." 

Personal  Facts. 

The  history  of  this  man  is  so  peculiar  that  it  may  be 
said  to  stand  alone  in  the  chronicles  of  literature.  The 
facte  may  be  given  as  follows :  In  1704,  five  years  before 
tlie  birth  of  Johnson,  and  while  Swift,  Addison  and  Pope 
were  rising  men,  there  appeared  in  London  a  clergyman 
named  Innes.  He  had  just  come  from  Holland,  bringing 
with  him  a  mysterious  young  man  of  oriental  birth,  who 
through  his  efforts  had  been  converted  from  heathen- 
ism  to  Christianity.  The  zeal  and  labors  displayed  by 
Innes  so  impressed  the  bishop  of  London  that  he  gave 
him  a  handsome  benefice  as  a  mark  of  approval. 

The  young  convert  was  visited  by  the  clergy  and  other 
men  of  learning,  to  whom  he  unfolded  a  strange  and 
moving  history.  He  told  them  (in  broken  English)  that 
ne  was  a  native  of  the  far-distant  island  of  Formosa, 
'.vliere  his  father  (whose  name  was  Psalmanazar)  held  high 
rank.  He  had  been  induced  to  abscond  from  home  by  a 
Koman  priest  named  Do  Rode,  and  they  escaped  in  an 
open  boat,  whence  they  took  passage  in  a  homeward* 


Book  Making.  99 

bound  ship.  When  asked  the  name  of  the  latter  the 
stranger  confessed  his  ignorance.  He  said  he  was  not 
then  aware  that  ships  had  names,  and  as  his  guide  kept 
liira  from  mingling  with  the  crew,  he  had  no  chance  to 
learn.  On  arriving  at  Gibraltar  the  priest  left  the  vessel 
and  took  the  youth  to  France,  where  an  attempt  was  made 
to  convert  him  to  Romanism.  He  objected  to  this  and  was 
at  last  led  to  fear  that  violence  and  penalty  might  be  the  con- 
sequence of  his  obduracy.  lie  therefore  escaped  at  night 
and  made  his  way  to  Holland,  where  he  was  pressecJ  into 
the  army.  There  he  met  the  zealous  Innes,  by  whom  he 
was  led  to  accept  Christianity.  He  then  related  to  the 
latter  his  marvelous  history,  and  Innes  procured  his  re- 
lease in  order  to  bring  him  to  London.  Psalmanazar 
was  baptized  by  the  name  of  George — being  then  twenty- 
five,  and  six  years  having  elapsed  since  he  left  his  native 
land. 

We  now  come  to  that  wonderful  fraud  which  gives 
this  man  a  prominent  place  in  literature.  He  soon  learned 
to  speak  and  write  English,  and  then  proposed  to  give  an 
account  of  his  native  island,  which  hitherto  had  never 
been  visited  by  a  British  tourist.  He  therefore  wrote  his 
description  of  Formosa,  which  includes  its  religion,  do- 
mestic life,  history,  with  other  details.  The  book  was 
issued  by  the  noted  publisher  Lintot,  and  was  illustrated 
with  costly  copperplate  engi-avings.  In  these  the  author 
introduced  the  elephant,  which  does  not  exist  in  Formosa, 
but  there  was  no  one  able  to  detect  the  error.  In  fact, 
the  only  point  of  truth  in  a  volume  of  four  hundred  pages, 
is  the  name  of  the  island.  The  mantle  of  piety  was 
cleverly  thrown  over  the  volume  by  dedicating  it  to  the 
bishop  of  London,  and  the  preface  closes  with  the  follow- 
ing doxology  : 

*'Now  to  the  omnipotent  and  merciful  God.  wlio  bath  hf  the 


100  OuE  Book. 

grace  of  His  Holy  Spirit  called  me  from  Paganism  to  the  true 
knowledge  of  His  Son,  Jesus  Christ,  my  Mediator  and  Redeemer, 
be  ascribed  eternal  praise,  honor  and  glory,  by  all  creatures,  for- 
ever and  ever.     Amen, 

As  an  instance  of  impious  hypocrisy  the  above  has  seldom 
been  equalled. 

Brief  Success. 

The  yonng  impostor  became  an  object  of  intense  inter- 
est among  religious  and  literary  circles,  and  his  book  was 
subjected  to  close  scrutiny.  While  indulging  his  inven- 
tion however,  he  made  one  mistake  which  was  fatal.  In 
speaking  of  the  bloody  religion  which  prevailed  there  he 
said  that  eighteen  thousand  infants  were  sacrificed  annu- 
ally, which  in  reality,  would  soon  depopulate  the  island. 
When  cornered,  instead  of  explaining  it  as  an  error  in 
figures,  he  boldly  adhered  to  it,  and  then  when  he  saw 
that  his  patrons  were  losing  confidence,  he  changed  from 
imposture  to  confession,  and  acknowledged  that  the  entire 
book  was  merely  an  invention.  London  was  astonished, 
and  when  this  was  past  the  adventurer,  being  cast  off  by 
his  friends,  sought  employment  of  the  booksellers.  He 
could  do  some  kinds  of  literary  drudgery,  and  this  kept 
him  from  starving.  He  lived  for  sixty  years  in  this  man- 
nerj  and  expressed  great  penitence  for  his  fraud. 

His  subsequent  life  was  passed  in  London,  and  when 
Johnson,  at  the  age  of  twenty-six  went  thither  to  try  his 
chance  in  literature,  he  found  Psalmanazar  a  lonely 
drudge,  and  a  friendship  was  gradually  established.  John- 
son, indeed,  became  an  admirer  of  the  mysterious  adven- 
turer, who  certainly  must  have  possessed  some  peculiar 
attraction.  Boswell  tells  us  that  Johnson  mentioned  him 
as  the  most  agreeable  of  his  associates,  and  at  one  time, 
when  referring  to  his  friend,  he  spoke  thus  :  "  Sir,  I 
sought  after  Psalmanazar  the  most;  I  used  to  go  and  sit 
with  him  at  an  ale  house  in  the  city."     The  man  who  thus 


Book  MAKnfo.  101 

awoke  the  admiration  and  friendship  of  Johnson  could 
be  no  ordinary  character. 

Psalmanazar  was  then  deeply  ashamed  of  his  impos- 
ture, and  for  this  reason  never  disclosed  his  true  name. 
He  retained  the  livery  of  fraud  till  the  last  as  a  part  of 
liis  self-inflicted  penance.  We  therefore  have  this  re- 
markable fact,  that  the  true  name  of  an  author  who  left 
his  mark  on  the  age  in  which  he  lived  has  never  been 
revealed,  and  also  that  the  place  of  his  birth,  as  well  as 
that  of  his  burial,  are  utterly  unknown.  This  is  one  of 
the  mysteries  of  modern  literature,  reminding  one  of  the 
Man  in  the  Iron  Mask.  It  was  supposed,  however,  that 
Psalmanazar  was  French.  He  had  traveled  through 
Europe,  thus  acquiring  inforraatiou, 

Other  Literary  Deceptions. 

The  eighteenth  century  is  noted  for  its  literary  frauds, 
all  of  which  were  sufliciently  skillful  to  win  the  confi- 
dence and  admiration  of  some  of  the  most  accomplished 
critics  and  were  only  detected  by  close  and  prolonged 
research.  Psalmanazar  was  followed  by  Ossian's  poems 
concerning  w^hich  the  following  statement  is  presented  as 
embodying  the  principal  facts.  A  young  Scotchman  of 
Highland  birth  and  well  educated  was  serving  as  tutor  in 
a  family  of  rank,  and  while  thus  engaged  claimed  to  have 
found  a  number  of  fragments  of  ancient  Celtish  poetry. 
He  showed  copies  to  some  Edinburgh  critics  who  encour- 
aged his  desire  of  publication,  and  the  result  was  the 
appearance  of  a  small  volume.  Such  was  the  advent  of 
James  Macpherson  who  found  himself  at  twenty-four  the 
object  of  sufiicient  attention  to  make  any  young  man 
dizzy. 

This  success  led  him  to  pursue  the  same  subject  until 
not  long  afterward  he  published  a  volume  of  more  fin- 


10^  Our  Book. 

ished  character  which  he  called  Ossian's  Poems.  It  was 
received  with  great  enthusiasm  and  was  translated  into 
other  languages.  Many  of  the  old  Highhmd  families  were 
so  delighted  with  the  idea  that  poems  had  been  preserved 
and  j)erpetuated  orally  among  their  people  for  a  thousand 
years  that  they  at  once  gave  Macpherson  implicit  credence, 
but  he  had  a  more  important  dupe  in  Blair,  then  famous 
as  a  preacher  and  professor  of  rhetoric  in  Edinburgh  uni- 
versity. He  credited  Macpherson  implicitly  and  when 
the  authenticity  of  the  poems  was  assailed  he  published 
a  volume  in  their  defense.  Doubts  indeed  had  been 
expressed  soon  after  the  appearance  of  the  book,  and 
Hume  wrote  to  Blair  that  as  he  had  adopted  the  theory 
he  should  defend  it  by  producing  some  of  the  originals. 
This  never  was  done  and  Macpherson  when  asked  for 
them  took  refuge  in  wounded  pride  since  the  request  cast 
doubt  upon  liis  veracity. 

Blair's  essay  compared  Ossian  with  Homer,  and  Mac- 
pherson must  have  been  astonished  to  see  so  strong  a  case 
made  out  by  his  champion.  It  is  supposed  indeed  that 
one  reason  why  he  never  confessed  the  imposture  was  a 
consideration  for  the  feelings  of  those  who  had  shown 
such  inexhaustible  credulity.  Dr.  Johnson  with  sturdy 
common  sense,  scouted  the  theory  and  called  for  the  pro- 
duction of  the  original  manuscripts  boldly  asserting  that 
"  no  man  has  a  right  to  demand  credence  of  his  state- 
ments when  he  has  power  to  add  proof." 

The  controversy  concerning  Ossian  continued  for  forty 
years,  and  eventually  the  Highland  Society  made  an 
investigation  throughout  the  entire  Highlands  which 
sufficiently  proved  that  all  these  poems  must  have  been 
written  by  Macpherson.  The  latter  left  Scotland  and 
found  government  employment  in  London  where  he 
passed  many  years  and  then  returned  to  his  native  land 


Book  Making.  103 

in  possession  of  a  competence.  His  fraud  gi'adiially 
dropped  out  of  notice,  and  he  avoided  any  reference  to 
it,  assuming  indifference  to  the  A^erdict  of  public  opinion 
whicli  pronounced  Ossian  an  ingenious  imposture. 

The  Kowley  Paters. 

Chatterton  was  the  only  hterary  fraud  that  possessed 
the  highest  order  of  genius,  and  his  imposture  was  not 
due  to  the  desire  of  triumph  over  credulity  but  to  that 
worship  of  the  past  which  had  mastered  his  soul.  His 
creations  were  superior  to  all  others  which  have  been 
offered  to  the  world  under  an  assumed  garb,  and  even 
when  stripped  of  the  latter  and  exposed  in  modern  Eng- 
lish they  still  command  our  admiration.  He  was  the 
youngest  and  also  the  most  unfortunate  of  the  class  of 
which  I  am  now  speaking,  for  he  died  by  his  own  hand  in 
his  eighteenth  year.  That  an  attorney's  clerk  in  Bristol 
should  have  so  mastered  the  language  of  six  centuries 
previous  as  to  deceive  the  best  critics  in  the  kingdom  is 
certainly  surprising. 

At  twelve  Chatterton  had  written  a  poem  —  Ellenore 
and  Juga  —  which  has  decided  merit,  and  after  he  had 
been  apprenticed  to  a  conveyancer  he  soon  produced 
antique  fragments  of  great  local  interest.  A  new  bridge 
over  the  Aven  at  Bristol  was  opened  and  the  clerk  grati- 
fied the  public  by  a  curious  account  of  the  opening  of  the 
old  bridge  seven  centuries  ago.  This  was  published  in 
one  of  the  papers  and  the  youth  said  that  he  found  the 
orijrinal  in  an  old  chest  in  the  tower  of  an  ancient  church. 
The  skill  with  which  it  was  written  led  to  its  general 
acceptance  and  the  young  clerk  then  produced  other  frag- 
ments which  displayed  great  knowledge  of  heraldry  and 
which  also  required  mastery  of  the  customs  and  language 
of  an  earlier  day. 


104:  OuK  Book. 

His  chief  creation,  however,  was  Thomas  Rowley  the 
poet,  whose  productions  he  gave  the  woi-ld  with  such 
apparent  accuracy  tliat  not  only  Bristol  antiquarians 
bowed  in  veneration  to  the  ancient  bard,  but  other  men 
of  critical  acumen  yielded  credence,  and  after  Chatterton's 
death  a  controversy  was  held  on  this  subject  to  such  an 
extent  that  twenty-seven  publications  were  issued  before 
the  question  reached  a  negative  conclusion. 

Johnson's  Opinion. 

Dr.  Johnson,  who  had  been  antagonistic  to  the  claims 
of  Ossian,  was  equally  incredulous  in  the  Rowley  contro- 
versy, and  the  following  extract  from  Boswell  may  be  of 
use  in  this  connection  :  "  We  made  an  excursion  to  Bris- 
tol where  I  was  entertained  by  seeing  Johnson  inquire 
upon  the  spot  into  the  authenticity  of  the  Rowley  poetry, 
as  I  had  seen  hitn  inquire  on  the  spot  into  the  authenti- 
city of  the  Ossian  j)oetry.  George  Catcot,  the  pewterer 
who  was  as  zealous  for  Rowley  as  Dr.  Blair  was  for  Ossian, 
attended  us  at  our  inn  and  exclaimed  with  a  triumphant 
air,  'I  will  make  Dr.  Johnson  a  convert.'  Dr.  Johnson, 
at  his  desire,  read  aloud  some  of  Chatterton's  fabricated 
verses,  while  Catcot  stood  at  the  back  of  his  chair,  mov- 
ing himself  like  a  pendulum  of  a  clock  and  beating  time 
with  his  feet,  and  now  and  then  looking  in4;o  Dr.  John- 
son's face  —  wondering  he  was  not  yet  convinced.  We 
also  called  on  Dr.  Barrett,  the  surgeon,  and  saw  some  of 
the  originals  —  as  they  were  called  —  which  were  exe- 
cuted with  much  art  —  but  from  a  careful  inspection  we 
were  quite  satisfied  of  the  imposture.  Johnson  said  of 
Chat.terton  '  this  is  the  most  extraordinary  young  man 
that  has  encountered  my  knowledge.'  "  True  enough  ! 
Chatterton  was  the  wonder  of  the  eighteenth  century,  and 
even  Wordsworth  exclaims! 


Book  Making.  105 

"I  thought  of  Chatterton  the  marvelous  boy, 
The  sleepless  youth  that  perished  in  his  pride ! '' 

At  the  time  of  Johnson's  visit  to  Bristol  Chatterton 
had  been  six  years  in  his  grave.  He  had  adventured  to 
London  in  searcli  of  literary  employment,  and  like  many 
of  the  same  class  had  met  the  keenest  disappointment. 
After  brief  and  crushing  misery  he  ended  his  sad  career 
by  poison  and  had  a  pauper's  burial.  Chatterton  as  has 
been  remarked,  was  the  only  one  of  these  literary  forgers 
that  possessed  genius,  so  it  may  also  be  said  that  he  is  the 
only  one  of  the  number  that  holds  literary  existence. 
His  works  have  a  place  in  all  lii)raries  and  some  of  his 
utterances  combine  great  beauty  and  moral  truth.  One 
of  these  is  the  appeal  to  the  Deity  which  closes  a  brief 
poem  on  the  misery  of  our  race. 

"0!  give  the  mighty  will  —  or  give  the  willing  power.'' 

How  much,  indeed,  is  included  in  this  brief  prayer  ? 

The  Ieeland  Fkaud. 

During  the  year  1796  a  London  dealer  in  old  books 
and  curiosities  visited  Stratford  and  was  accompanied  by 
his  son,  a  bright  and  clever  youth  of  eighteen,  who  had 
already  displayed  much  of  that  antiquarian  taste  which 
characterized  his  father.  The  enthusiasm  which  the  lat- 
ter manifested  when  they  reached  the  birth-place  of  the 
great  dramatist  was  increased  by  the  discovery  made  by 
his  son  of  an  ancient  lease  with  Shakespeare's  signature. 
In  this  manner  the  Irelands — both  named  Samuel  — 
attracted  unusual  notice,  and  the  son  soon  afterward 
found  one  of  Shakespeare's  lost  plays  which  occasioned  a 
still  greater  sensation  in  the  literary  world.  It  was  called 
Yortigern,  and  had  so  genuine  an  appearance  that  it  was 
played  at  Drury  Lane  with  John  Philip  Kemble  in  the 
loading  role. 
14 


106  Our  Book. 

It  proved  a  failnre  however,  and  then  a  closer  critical 
examination  took  place  which  resulted  in  a  general  con- 
viction of  imposture.  Young  Ireland  was  plied  with  the 
same  demand  to  which  Macpherson  had  been  subjected 
—  to  furnish  the  originals  —  and  being  unable  to  escape 
the  dilemma  he  confessed  the  fraud.  Ilis  father  was 
overcome  W'ith  grief  and  the  young  impostor  left  the 
paternal  roof  never  to  return. 

The  admiration  which  Yortigern  awoke  led  its  author 
to  write  another  play  called  Henry  II  and  both  were 
printed  in  1799.  The  impostor  seems  to  have  gloried  in 
his  success,  for  thirty  .years  afterward  he  republished 
Vortigern  as  a  literary  curiosity.  He  also  published-  his 
Confessions  in  which  he  gives  a  description  of  his  forger- 
ies. It  is  evident  that  he  possessed  a  respectable  share  of 
ability,  and  he  supported  himself  by  literary  labor  until 
his  death,  which  occurred  in  1835. 

It  may  be  added  that  a  copy  of  Ireland's  Shakespearian 
forgeries  was  recently  sold  at  auction  in  New  York,  and 
as  might  have  been  expected,  occasioned  sharp  rivalry. 
The  value  of  the  book  was  increased  by  the  signature  of 
John  Philip  Kemble  with  interleaved  engravings,  and 
after  spirited  bidding  it  was  carried  off  by  a  bibliomaniac 
at  $155.  It  thus  appears  that  the  first  and  the  last  of 
these  impostors — Psalmanazar  and  Ireland  —  confessed 
their  frauds  but  while  the  one  expressed  repentance  the 
other  seemed  proud  of  his  success.  Macpherson  on  the 
other  hand  maintained  a  reserve  on  the  Ossian  question, 
and  appeared  indifferent  to  public  opinion.  Chatterton 
was  the  only  one  of  the  nnmber  who  died  before  the 
complete  publication  of  his  works,  and  whose  genius  so 
commands  our  admiration  that  one  is  led  to  forgive  his 
youthful  imposture. 

These  literary  frauds  indicate  the  natural  tendency  to 


Book  Making.  KW/ 

reproduce  the  antique,  and  while  the  present  century  fur- 
nishes nothing  of  the  kind  in  a  literary  line  it  has  still 
to  testify  against  Collier  the  Shakespearean  charlatan. 

Malicious  Frauds. 

The  basest  form  of  literary  fraud  is  when  it  assails 
character  by  forged  letters,  and  this  was  one  of  those  out- 
rages which  Washington  so  patiently  endured.  In  1776 
a  pamphlet  was  published  in  London  containing  letters 
alleged  to  have  been  written  by  the  commander  of  the 
American  army.  The  fraud  was  very  ingenious,  for  the 
style  was  cleverly  imitated,  and  they  made  reference  to 
local  and  even  family  affairs.  The  object  was  to  misrep- 
resent both  himself  and  the  American  cause,  and  they 
were  well  adapted  to  this  malicious  purpose. 

These  letters  were  reprinted  in  New  York  by  the  tories, 
but  to  perpetuate  the  mischief,  the  enemies  of  Washing- 
ton published  them  in  book  form  during  his  last  adminis- 
tration, and  this  led  Washington  to  file  his  denial  in  the 
national  archives.  The  author  was  never  known,  but  my 
suspicion  rests  on  James  Rivington  (see  page  318),  almost 
the  only  man  that  could  commit  the  crime. 

Concerning  Pen  Names. 
One  of  the  earliest  is  Piers  Ploughman,  whose  Com- 
plaint is  one  of  the  curiosities  of  British  literature.  Later 
on,  when  Edward  Cave  started  the  Gentleman's  Maga- 
zine, he  assumed  tlie  editorial  title  of  Sylvanus  Urban, 
which  is  still  retained  by  his  successors.  Dr.  Johnson 
wrote  for  the  same  magazine  under  the  name  of  S.  Smith. 
Addison  was  the  Clio  of  the  Spectator,  and  Goldsmith 
was  The  Chinese  Philosopher  of  the  Public  Ledger.  His 
spicy  letters  are  the  only  ones  of  that  day  that  have  beeo 


108  Odk  Book. 

reprinted,  and  they  are  among  the  best  things  of  his  pen. 
Horace  Walpole  published  his  Castle  of  Otranto  as  the 
work  of  Onuphrio  Murallo,  translated  by  William  Mar- 
shall. Robert  Southey  wrote  letters  from  Portugal  un- 
der the  name  of  Espriella,  and  Sydney  Smitli  used  the 
name  of  Peter  Plymly.  Walter  Scott  had  three  pen 
names.  He  was  not  only  the  Author  of  Waverley,  but 
also  Paul,  and  then  as  a  politician  he  signed  Malachi  Mala- 
growther.     James    Hogg   was   The    Ettrick    Shepherd. 

Thomas  Moore's  first  poems  were  issued  as  the  works  of 
the  late  Thomas  Little.  As  Moore  was  a  very  small  man, 
this  pen  name  semed  most  appropriate.  Prof.  Wilson 
had  two  pen  names.  His  Lights  and  Shadows  of  Scottish 
Life  were  by  Arthur  Austin,  and  then  he  was  the  Chris- 
topher North  of  Blackwood's  Magazine.  John  Wolcott 
was  Peter  Pindar,  and  the  gifted  and  mercurial  Francis 
Mahoney  was  Father  Prout,  the  wittiest  man  of  his  day, 
and  one  of  its  best  hnguists.  Proctor,  the  London  law- 
yer, wrote  poetry  under  the  name  of  Barry  Cornwall. 
Elia  was  Charles  Lamb,  and  De  Quincy  was  the  English 
Opium  Eater.  Douglas  Jerrold  appeared  in  print  as  Bar- 
rabas  Whitefeather,  and  E.  R.  Lytton  as  Owen  Meredith. 

The  once  popular  Country  Parson  was  the  Rev.  A.  H. 
K.  Boyd,  and  Sidney  Tendys  is  Sidney  Dobell.  Delta 
of  Blackwood  was  Dr.  Moir,  and  Etonensis  is  William  E. 
Gladstone.  The  sisters  Bronte  were  severally  Acton 
Bell,  Ellis  Bell  and  Currer  Bell,  and  I  need  hardly  say 
that  Boz  was  Dickens,  though  I  can  remember  the  time 
when  this  popular  name  was  a  mystery,  and  it  continued 
thus  for  two  years.  Mrs.  Marion  C.  Lewes  was  the  novel- 
ist George  Eliot,  and  Thomas  Hughes  is  Tom  Brown, 
Max  O'Rell  is  Paul  Blouet,  and  Mme.  Durand  is  Henry 
Greville.  Mrs.  Frank  Tracy  is  Agnes  Ethel.  Turning 
to   the   continent,  Mme.    Dudevant   was  George  Sand, 


Book  Making.  109 

Clara  Mundt  was  the  autlior  of  the  Louise  Mulbach  nov- 
els, and  Louise  De  la  Rame  is  the  famous  Ouida. 

American  Kames. 

Pen  names  seem  native  to  America.  In  1645,  only 
fifteen  years  after  the  settlement  of  Boston,  Nathaniel 
Ward  issued  a  tract  called  the  Cobbler  of  Agawam,  by 
Theodore  De  La  Guard.     This  example  became  popular. 

One  of  the  iiappiest  pen  names  was  that  adopted  by 
Ben.  Franklin  when  he  was  an  apprentice  to  his  brother, 
who  published  a  paper  in  Boston.  A  number  of  essays 
appeared  signed  Silence  Dogood,  and  attracted  much 
attention,  which  encouraged  their  author  to  greater  effort, 
and  he  afterward  became  the  author  of  Poor  Richard's 
Almanac,  which  rendered  him  famous.  Immediately 
after  the  Revolution  Judge  Tyler  appeared  in  print  as 
Updike  Underhill,  and  with  this  pen  name  appeared  the 
first  American  play  and  also  the  first  tale.  Next  came 
the  pen  names  in  Salmagundi,  where  William  Irving  was 
Pindar  Cockloft  and  James  K.  Paulding  Launcelot  Long- 
staff,  while  Washington  Irving  was  Anthony  Evergreen, 
and  also  wrote  the  letters  of  Keli  Khan.  He  was  also 
the  Jonathan  Old  Style  of  the  Morning  Chronicle,  and 
later  on  appeared  as  Diedrich  Knickerbocker  and  Geoffrey 
Crayon.  Philip  Freneau  was  Robert  Slender,  and  Wil- 
liam Wirt  was  the  clever  British  Spy.  Matthew  L. 
Davis,  Burr's  biographer,  was  the  Old  Man  in  Specs,  and 
Willis  Gaylord  Clarke  was  the  Ollapod  of  the  Knicker- 
bocker Magazine. 

Other  prominent  Names. 

Howard  Carroll  is  H.  C.  of  the  New  York  Times; 
Edwin  Williams  was  The  Berkeley  Men,  and  Nathaniel 
Green  was  Boscowen ;  Maria  Brooks  was  Maria  del  Oc- 
cidente,  whose  poetry  Southey  quotes;  Anna  Cora  Mo- 


110  OuE  Book. 

watt  was  Helen  Berkeley;  Susan  Warner  was  Elizabeth^ 
Witlierell ;  C.  T.  Briggs  was  Harry  Franco ;  N.  P. 
"Willis  was  Philip  Slingsby ;  Mrs.  Whitcher  was  The 
Widow  Bedott ;  Dr.  Francis  Lieber  was  Aniericns ; 
Charles  F.  Browne  was  Arteinus  Ward  ;  E.  G.  Squires 
was  Samuel  Bard  ;  Benjamin  Perley  Poore  was  Perley ; 
Matthew  Hale  Smith  was  Burleigh ;  Charles  Astor 
Bristed  was  Carl  Benson ;  Mortimer  Thompson  was  Doe- 
sticks  ;  H.  W.  Herbert  was  Frank  Forrester  ;  Mrs.  James 
Parton  was  Fanny  Fern ;  Mrs.  Judson  was  Fanny  For- 
rester ;  the  Hev.  S.  I.  Prime  was  Irseneus ;  H.  W.  Shaw 
was  Josh  Billings ;  Dr.  Holland  was  Timothy  Titcomb; 
Charles  G.  Halpen  was  Miles  O'Reilly ;  Mrs.  S.  Lippin- 
cott  was  Grace  Greenwood ;  S.  G.  Goodrich  was  Peter 
Parley;  R.  H.  Newell  was  Orpheus  C.  Kerr  —  (office- 
seeker)  ;  Judge  Haliburton  was  Sam  Slick ;  the  Rev. 
Nicholas  Murray  was  Kerwan,  and  Henry  Ward  Beecher 
was  the  *  of  the  Independent,  while  Alice  B.  Neal  was 
Cousin  Alice ;  Rev.  Charles  A.  Stoddard  is  Augustus  of 
the  New  York  Observer,  as  well  as  its  chief  editor, 

Mrs.  G.  L.  Alden  is  Pansy ;  Mrs.  Searing  is  Howard 
Glyndon;  Mrs.  Farley  is  Ernest  Gil  more  ;  J.  T.  Trow- 
bridge is  Paul  Grey  ton  ;  Henry  Watterson  isAsaTrench- 
ard ;  C.  C.  Coffin  is  Carleton  ;  Mrs.  Stowe  is  Chris  Crow- 
field  ;  Mrs.  Pittman  is  Margery  Deane  ;  Julia  C.  R.  Dorr 
is  Caroline  Thomas  ;  Mrs.  Halley  is  Josiah  Allen's  Wife ; 
Maria  Gilmore  is  Mabel  Gerard ;  G.  A.  Townsend  is 
Gath ;  Miss  Abigail  Dodge  is  Gail  Hamilton ;  Mrs. 
Richardson  is  Pearl  Rivers ;  Henry  Harlan d  is  Sydney 
Luska ;  Charles  G.  Leland  is  Hans  Breitman ;  Joel 
Chandler  Harris,  is  Uncle  Remus  ;  James  R.  Lowell  is 
Hosea  Biglow ;  G.  W.  Curtis  is  The  Howadji ;  Donald 
G.  Mitchell  is  Ik  Marvell ;  Mrs.  D.  G,  Croly  is  Jennie 
June;   C.   H.  Webb  is  John  Paul;   S.  L.  Clemens  is 


Pen  Names.  lit 

Mark  Twain ;  William  Winter  is  Merentio ;  B.  P.  Shil- 
laber  is  the  irresistible  Mrs.  Partington ;  William  T. 
Adams  is  Oliver  Optic ;  A.  C.  Wheeler  is  Nym  Crinkle ; 
Mrs.  Rush  Ellis  is  Saxe  Holme ;  W.  H.  Bogart  is  Senti- 
nel ;  William  H.  McElroy  is  Richard  Scudder ;  Lyman 
Abbott  is  Ben  Aiiley  ;  John  Neal  is  John  A.  Cataract; 
Miss  Murfree  is  Charles  Egbert  Craddock,  and  Rossi ter 
Johnson  is  Phaeton  Rogers. 

Initials  and  Fancy  Names. 
Some  authors  prefer  initials,  and  Miss  Landon  acquired 
temporary  fame  as  L.  E.  L.,  while  in  our  own  day  H.  H. 
was  sufficient  to  indicate  a  writer  who  is  still  mourned  by 
the  literary  world.  Johnson  was  accustomed  to  apply 
grotesque  titles  to  his  friends,  and  thus  Goldsmith  became 
Goldy,  and  Boswell  was  Bozzy,  Garrick  was  Davy,  while 
Edmund  Burke  the  famous  orator,  was  only  designated 
Mun  Burke.  Some  literary  men  have  changed  their 
names  as  a  matter  of  taste,  and  one  is  not  surprised  that 
Joseph  Tinker  preferred  the  name  of  Buckingham,  nor 
that  Jeremiah  Colbath  should  change  his  name  to  Henry 
Wilson.  Bayard  Taylor  dropped  the  prefix  of  James, 
and  Commodore  Slidell  added  Mackenzie.  Going  back 
to  a  still  earlier  day  we  find  John  Paul  changed  his  name 
to  Paul  Jones  and  won  fame  for  his  naval  victories  dur- 
ing the  revolution.  Our  country  has  never  shown  a 
proper  gratitude  toward  this  hero. 

Anonymous  Publications. 
The  habit  of  publishing  anonymously  is  very  ancient, 
and  Yirgil  tried  the  method  when  he  wrote  verses  lauding 
Augustus.  As  might  have  been  expected,  the  credit  was 
appropriated  by  another,  and  Yirgil's  strategy  in  exposing 
the  fraudulent  claimant  was  very  ingenious.  The  most 
wonderful  of  all  anonymous  writers  was  the  author  of 


112  Our  Book. 

Junius,  and  his  secret  is  the  best  kept  of  any  thing  of 
the  kind  on  record.  It  is  generally  supposed  however, 
that  Sir  Phihp  Francis  was  the  author. 

Byron  issued  his  Don  Juan  anonymously,  but  though 
he  was  then  in  Italy  the  London  public  soon  settled  the 
question  of  its  authenticity.  Another  remarkable  in- 
stance of  the  kind  is  The  Doctor,  which  also  appeared 
anonymously  in  London.  Its  style,  its  indication  of 
extraordinary  reading  and  also  its  conservatism  led  the 
public  to  charge  it  to  Southey.  He  was  indeed  its  author, 
but  to  blind  the  reader  he  introduced  allusions  to  himself, 
among  other  writers,  and  actually  quoted  some  of  his  own 
poetry. 

Walter  Scott  issued  his  novels  by  the  Author  of 
Waverley,  and  at  the  same  time  published  poems  and 
biography  under  his  own  name  in  order  to  distract  atten- 
tion. He  never  alluded  to  the  Waverley  novels  either  in 
print  or  in  family  conversation  while  the  Great  Un- 
known was  under  discussion  —  a  space  of  twelve  years. 
In  addition  to  this  secrecy  he  issued  Tales  of  my  Landlord 
anonymously  —  for  not  even  The  Author  of  Waverley 
was  on  the  title  page.  The  public  however  soon  dis- 
cerned the  identity,  and  the  books  were  at  once  classed 
with  the  "Waverley  novels. 

The  most  popular  novel  published  anonymously  before 
the  days  of  Scott  was  Miss  Burney's  Evelina,  which 
appeared  in  1Y78.  Twelve  years  had  elapsed  since  Gold- 
smith had  published  the  Yicar  of  Wakefield,  and  as  no 
respectable  fiction  had  occurred  during  this  interval  the 
public  welcomed  this  clever  production.  Edmund  Burke 
when  twenty-seven,  published  anonymously  his  maiden  vol- 
ume (Vindication  of  Natural  Society),  which  was  ascribed 
to  Bolingbroke.  The  Dunciad  was  a  much  more  strik- 
ing instance,  for  Pope  "not  only  suppressed  his  name  but 


Book  Making.  113 

in  order  to  blind  the  public  more  effectually,  published  it 
in  Dublin.     He  was  afraid  of  the  consequences. 
Anotuek  Instance. 

While  Byron  was  living  in  Venice,  in  1819,  three 
years  after  leaving  England,  and  being  then  in  his  thirty- 
first  year,  he  was  surprised  to  learn  that  a  prose  fiction 
had  been  ascribed  to  him.  The  tale  first  appeared 
anonymously  in  a  London  magazine,  and  was  afterward 
published  in  a  volume,  also  anonymous.  The  same  vol 
ume  contained  a  beautiful  sketch  of  the  poet's  residence 
on  the  Island  of  Mytelene,  which  was  described  in  all  the 
detail  which  suggested  a  special  visit,  made  for  this  pur- 
pose. Byron  at  once  saw  that  these  two  fictions  were  in- 
tended by  such  a  connection  to  lead  the  public  to  the 
conclusion  that  he  was  the  author  of  the  first,  and  also, 
that  the  other  had  his  approval.  He  was  startled  by  the 
liberty  thus  taken  with  his  name,  and  wrote  to  Galignani 
and  also  to  John  Murray,  denying  the  authorship. 

The  Yampire  was,  by  popular  opinion,  ascribed  to 
Byron  as  soon  as  it  appeared,  and  this  gave  it  a  wide  cir- 
culation. Even  Walter  Scott  held  such  a  belief  until 
Byron's  denial  was  published.  It  was  thought  that  onlj' 
he  could  be  its  author,  not  only  because  he  w^as  conver- 
sant with  oriental  scenes,  but  also  from  the  following 
allusion  to  the  Yampire  in  the  Giaour: 

"But  first  on  earth  as  Vampire  sent 
Thy  corse  shall  from  its  tomb  be  rent; 
Then  ghastly  haunt  thy  native  place 
And  suck  the  blood  of  all  thy  race, 
There  from  thy  daughter,  sister,  wife 
At  midnight  drain  the  stream  of  Hfe." 

Byron  soon  learned  that  the  author  of  the  mysterious 

tale  was  Dr.  Polidori,  whom  he  had  known  in  London, 

and  who  accompanied  him  to  the  continent.     There  they 

parted  and  Polidori  returned  to  London  where  he  pub. 

15 


114  OuK  Book. 

Wordsworth  published  "  Peter  Bell ''  anonymously  to 
escape  the  prejudice  against  the  "  Lake  school "  of  poetry 
of  which  he  was  chief.  Samuel  Peters,  whose  lying  his- 
tory of  Connecticut  is  noticed  elsewhere,  issued  that 
infamous  libel  in  London  anonymously,  being  too  great  a 
coward  to  meet  the  responsibility. 

To  return  to  American  literature,  Charles  Brockden 
Brown  issued  his  novels  anonymously  and  Caritat,  the 
publisher  advertised  "  Wieland  by  a  Citizen  of  the 
United  States,"  also  Ormond  by  the  author  of  Wie- 
land. 

The  Mad  Poet. 

This  title  was  only  assumed  by  one  person  (McDonald 
Clarke),  who  published  "  The  Elixir  of  Moonshine  by  the 
Mad  Poet."  The  pen  name  took  so  well  that  the  "  Mad 
Poet"  enjoyed  no  little  notoriety.  His  poetry  was  suffi- 
ciently eccentric  to  sell  and  this  gave  him  a  meagre 
support  until  his  death,  which  occurred  in  184-2'.  He 
originated  one  expression  (button  with  a  star),  which  was 
afterward  used  by  Holmes. 

The  only  poet  buried  in  New  York  was  Bobert  C.  Sands, 
who  was  also  editor  of  the  Commercial  Advertiser. 
Bryant  at  the  same  time  edited  the  Evening  Post,  and 
these  two  leading  papers  had  poetic  editors.  Sands  died 
early  and  was  buried  in  St.  Paul's  church  yard. 

Sands'  work  as  a  journalist  was  limited  to  five  years,  and 
its  close  was  marked  by  his  best  poem,  The  Dead  of  1832. 
It  was  written  in  December,  and  before  the  year  was 
finished  he  too  was  in  its  mortuary  record,  liaving  survived 
this  poem  but  a  few  days.  It  was  certainly  a  very 
remarkable  feature  in  the  year  above  referred  to  that  its 
death-roll  included  such  a  variety  of  genius. 

Having  mentioned  The  Dead  of  1832  in  a  fragmentary 


Book  Makincx.  115 

manner,  I  now  add  a  few  verses  in  this  connection  to 
show  its  beauty. 

Oh  Time  and  Death !  with  certain  pace 

Though  still  unequal,  hurrying  on, 
O'erturning  in  your  awful  race 

The  cot,  the  palace,  and  the  throne. 

Dread  ministers  of  God  !   Sometimes 
Ye  smite  at  once  —  to  do  His  will  — 

In  all  eartli's  ocean  severed  climes, 
Those  —  whose  renown  ye  cannot  kill. 

When  all  the  brightest  stars  that  bum 
At  once  are  banished  from  their  spheres. 

Men  sadly  ask  wlien  shall  return 
Such  luster  to  the  coming  years? 

Per  where  is  he  —  who  lived  so  long. 
Who  raised  the  modern  Titan's  ghost, 

And  showed  his  fate  in  powerful  song 
Whose  soul  for  learning's  sake  was  lost? 

Where  he  —  who  backward  to  the  birth 

Of  Time  itself  adventurous  trod; 
And  in  the  mingled  mass  of  earth, 

Found  out  the  handiwork  of  God? 

Where  he  —  who  struck  old  Albyn's  lyre, 
Till  round  the  world  the  echoes  roll. 

And  swept  with  all  a  prophet's  fire, 
The  diapason  of  the  soul? 

Tlie  reader  will  recognize  in  the  last  three  verses  ref- 
erences to  Goethe,  Cuvier  and  Scott,  and  after  paying  an 
appropriate  tribute  to  the  remainder  of  the  illustrious 
record,  the  poet  closes  with  the  following  eloquent  out- 
burst : 

All  earth  is  now  their  sepulcher, 

The  mind  their  monument  sublime ; 
Young  in  eternal  fame  they  are, 

Such  are  your  triumphs,  Death  and  Time ! 

Peter  Wilkins. 
It  may  seem  very  strange  that  there  should  be  a  direct 
connection  between  a  work  written  by  an  English  bishop 


116  OuK  Book. 

and  a  burletta  played  at  the  Bowery  theatre,  but  such  is 
the  case.  During  my  boyhood  the  above-mentioned  play- 
house drew  large  attendances  by  the  performance  of 
"  Peter  Wilkins,  or  the  Flying  Islanders,"  which  I  then 
supposed  to  be  a  modern  production.  I  learned,  how- 
ever, that  Peter  Wilkins  was  a  book  of  adventure  among 
the  winged  Pacific  islanders,  published  in  London  in 
1750,  and  often  reprinted.  The  author,  Eobert  Puttock 
(who  never  published  any  other  book),  derived  the  idea 
from  Bishop  Wilkins'  publications  concerning  the  moon, 
which  he  believed  to  be  inhabited.  One  of  these  was 
on  the  possibility  of  a  voyage  thither.  The  bishop  pur- 
sued science  as  well  as  religion,  and  his  vagaries  were  not 
only  caricatured,  but  his  name  was  put  into  service  by 
the  humorist. 

Henry  Kirke  White. 
It  was  his  early  death  which  gave  him  fame,  since  his 
sad  fate  awoke  sympathv,  and  his  works  are  thus  en- 
shrined in  that  halo  which  surrounds  disappointed  genius 
and  crushed  ambition.  Had  White  survived  his  fiftieth 
year  he  would  have  outlived  his  poetry,  but  he  passed 
away  so  rapidly  that  his  name  is  associated  with  tender 
and  pathetic  associations  to  a  degree  unknown  by  any 
author.  One  of  the  most  striking  features  in  Kirke 
White's  history  is  the  fact  that  his  boyhood  was  passed 
at  Nottingham,  which  is  near  Byron's  ancestral  home, 
Newstead  abbey.  White  was  a  poor  boy  working  in  a 
factory  and  then  an  attorney's  clerk,  while  Byron  was  the 
favored  son  of  wealth  as  well  as  of  genius.  Years  after- 
ward they  met  in  Cambridge  university.  The  one  was 
the  incipient  nobleman  and  peer  of  the  realm,  while  the 
other  was  an  ill-clothed  charity  scholar.  Nevertheless  the 
latter  commanded  the  respect  and  even  the  admiration  of 


Hknry  Kikke  White.  117 

the  former,  who,  amid  all  his  love  of  vice,  acknowledged 
and  honored  the  purity  of  the  humble  student. 

Byron's  Tribute. 
N^ot  long  afterward  White  died,  and  when  Byron  ex- 
coriated the  literati   of   Great  Britain  (in  his  English 
Bards  and  Scotch  Reviewers)  he  paid  the  former  the  fol- 
lowing beautiful  tribute : 

"Unhappy  White,  while  life  was  in  its  spring, 
And  thy  young  muse  just  waved  her  joyous  wing, 
The  spoiler  swept  that  soaring  lyre  away. 
Which  else  had  sounded  an  immortal  lay, 
Oh,  what  a  noble  heart  was  here  undone, 
When  science  self-destroyed  her  favorite  son; 
'Twas  thine  own  genius  gave  the  fatal  blow, 
And  helped  to  plant  the  wound  that  laid  thee  low." 

Byron's  tribute  to  White  shows  how  the  simple  piety 
and  studious  application  of  the  latter  could  command  the 
admiration  of  one  so  highly  elevated  in  wealth  and  social 
rank  as  well  as  genius. 

White  could  not  be  correctly  called  "  unhappy,"  for 

though  his  early  plans  were  all  blasted  he  had  learned 

submission,  and  this  sublime  lesson  pervades  one  of  his 

best  effusions : 

Come  disappointment,  come  ! 

Though  from  hope's  summit  hurled 
Still  rigid  nurse  thou  art  forgiven. 
For  thou,  severe,  were  sent  from  heaven, 
To  wean  me  from  the  world ; 
To  turn  my  eye 
From  vanity, 
And  point  to  scenes  of  bliss,  that  never,  never  die. 

The  above  was  written  by  one  who  never  saw  his 
twenty-second  year,  but  it  is  really  a  grander  utterance 
than  anything  in  Childe  Harold,  whose  author  more  than 
once  acknowledges  the  value  of  that  religion  which  he  so 
madly  rejected.  The  same  testimony,  however,  is  fre- 
quently given  by  perverted  genius. 


118  OuE  Book. 

Byron  says  in  letters :  "  Harry  White  had  poesy  and 
genius  notwithstanding  his  cant,  which  in  him  was  sin- 
cere. Setting  aside  his  bigotry,  he  surely  ranks  next  to 
Chatterton.  It  is  astonishing  how  little  he  was  known. 
At  Cambridge  no  one  thought  or  heard  of  such  a  man 
till  his  death  rendered  all  notice  useless.  For  my  own 
part,  I  should  have  been  most  proud  of  such  an  acquaint- 
ance." To  such  a  man  as  Byron  it  was  natural  to  desig- 
nate piety  as  cant  and  bigotry,  but  it  is  highly  probable 
that  he  often  envied  the  charity  scholar  that  peace  which 
only  true  religion  can  give.  White  little  dreamed  of  the 
impression  he  was  making  on  the  high  born  slave  of  sin, 
and  this  is  an  additional  proof  of  the  unconscious  power 

of  piety. 

Tributes  to  Genius. 

One  of  the  most  touching  features  in  literature  is  that 

series  of  eulogies  which  authors  one  after  another  pay  to 

departed  genius.     Milton  honors  Shakespeare  with  the 

sonnet  beginning : 

What  needs  my  Shakespeare  for  his  honored  bones 
The  labor  of  an  age  in  piled  stones? 

Pope  pays  a  beautiful  tribute  to  Cow^ley  and  also  to 
Denham.  Collins  penned  a  poetic  tribute  to  Thomson, 
and  Cowper  sought  in  the  same  manner  to  do  justice  to 
Whiteiield.  Johnson  wrote  Goldsmith's  epitaph  and 
Garrick  performed  a  similar  service  for  Hogarth.  Burke 
wrote  the  obituary  which  followed  the  death  of  Sir  Joshua 
Keynolds.  The  learned  Dr.  Parr  wrote  Johnson's  epitaph, 
and  Wordsworth  paid  a  mortuary  tribute  to  the  eloquent 
Charles  James  Fox.  Coming  to  our  own  authors,  Hal- 
leck's  most  pathetic  lines  were  in  honor  of  his  departed 
friend  Joseph  Rodman  Drake.  Biyant  delivered  a  eulogy 
on  Irving  and  received  after  his  death  a  similar  honor 
from  Stedman. 

The  Bryant  bust  in  the  Central  park  is  this  poet's  chief 


Poets  and  Monuments..  119 

monument,  as  his  grave  is  designated  in  a  very  simple 
manner.  Poetic  genius  has  seldom  asked  more  than  this 
and  even  Horace,  who  claimed  that  he  had  built  a  monu- 
ment more  enduring  than  brass,  referred  to  his  writings 
rather  than  to  a  mortuary  shaft.  The  oldest  grave  of 
any  author  is  that  of  Yirgil  at  Posilippo,  near  Naples. 
Shakespeare's,  however,  is  the  most  frequently  visited, 
being  the  chief  shrine  of  genius.  Probably  the  longest 
epitaph  ever  written  on  any  literary  man  was  that  which 
Johnson  inflicted  on  Goldsmith,  and  which  to  make  it 
worse  is  in  Latin.  The  shortest  is  that  which  marks  the 
grave  of  the  once  noted  Boston  preacher  and  lecturer, 
who  died  in  Florence,  and  consists  merely  of  the  name 
"  Theodore  Parker,"  with  the  dates  of  birth  and  death. 

Wordsworth  in  his  latter  days  when  contemplating  his 
final  departure  from  the  scenes  he  so  deeply  loved,  refers 
thus  to  himself  in  the  lines  on  a  stone  placed  by  him  at 
Rydal  Mount : 

So  let  it  rest  and  time  will  come, 

When  here  the  tender  hearted  : 
May  heave  a  gentle  sigh  for  him, 

As  one  of  the  departed. 

The  most  painful  in  its  suggestions,  at  least  of  all  the 
epitaphs  of  genius,  is  that  which  Swift  wrote  for  himself, 
but  the  most  pathetic  is  that  which  Keats  desired.  It  is 
the  language  of  broken  hope  which  made  him  feel  that 
liis  life  had  indeed  been  "  written  in  water,"  but  the  for- 
mer suggests  that  bitter  disappointment  which  Swift  so 
long  endured. 

Few  men  are  inchned  to  write  their  own  epitaphs,  but 

in  addition  to  those  of  Swift  and  Keats  may  be  given  one 

which  Coleridge  left  for  his  own  tomb  : 

''Stop,  Christian  passer  by:     Stop,  child  of  God, 
And  read  with  gentle  breast.     Beneatii  this  sod 
A  poet  lies,  or  tliat  which  once  seemed  he, 
0 !  lift  a  thought  in  prayer  for  S.  T.  C. 


120  Our  Book. 

That  he  who  many  a  year,  with  toil  of  breath 

Found  death  in  life,  may  here  find  life  in  death, 

Mercy  for  praise  —  to  be  forgiven,  for  fame, 

He  asked  and  hoped  through  Christ.     Do  thou  the  same." 

To  the  above  may  be  added  the  lines  which  close  Gray's 
Elegj,  and  which  gives  one  the  poet's  idea  of  what  should 
be  his  own  mortuary  inscription.  What  a  beautiful  illus- 
tration of  sympathy  is  given  in  such  lines  as  these : 

"He  gave  to  misery  —  'twas  all  he  had  —  a  tear, 
He  gained  of  heaven  —  'twas  all  he  wished  —  a  friend." 

Interpolations  and  Alterations. 
There  has  been  from  time  immemorial  a  class  of  scrib- 
blers so  conceited  as  to  think  that  they  can  improve  the 
works  of  men  of  genius,  and  a  very  striking  instance  is 
found  in  Gibber's  mutilation  of  Shakespeare.  I  was  per- 
sonally acquainted  with  one  of  this  class  who  tinkered 
Collin's  Ode  to  the  Passions  with  great  satisfaction. 
A  similar  instance  is  found  in  an  edition  of  Coleridge's 
poems,  published  in  Boston,  1860,  by  Crosby,  Nichols  & 
Co.,  in  which  eight  verses  of  the  Ancient  Mariner  are 
altered,  and  the  following  verse  is  interpolated  : 

A  gust  of  wind  starts  up  behind, 

And  whistles  through  his  bones; 
Through  the  hole  of  his  eye  and  the  hole  of  his  mouth 

Half  whistles  and  half  groans. 

This  attempt  to  "  improve  "  a  wonderful  poem  shows 
a  degree  of  audacity  which  is  really  surprising.  ■  Such 
alterations  are  among  the  highest  literary  crimes,  and  yet 
they  are  the  most  frequently  found  among  a  class  whose 
religious  profession,  to  say  the  least,  requires  honesty.  I 
refer  to  the  tinkerers  of  hymns,  who  have  done  such  vio- 
lence to  the  best  productions  of  the  sacred  muse,  and 
often,  indeed,  made  the  hymnists  father  sentiments  repul- 
sive to  their  very  nature. 


Early  poetical  Visitor.  121 

One  of  the  earliest  American  issues  of  foreign  poetry 
thus  appeared  in  the  New  York  Museum,  April  12,  1800: 

"  The  Pleasures  of  Hope,  and  Other  Poems,  by  Thomas 
Campbell,  are  just  published  by  Jones  Bull,  403  Pearl 
street,  at  sixty-two  cents,  neatly  bound  and  lettered." 

It  is  painful  to  learn  that  an  author  whose  principal 
work  was  the  Pleasures  of  Hope,  should  have  been 
through  life  the  victim  of  disappointment.  Campbell 
unfortunately  struck  twelve  the  first  time.  In  other 
words,  he  never  equaled  his  first  effort,  and  the  Pleasures 
of  Hope  was  the  ghost  at  his  door  through  life.  As  he 
said,  "  I  was  married  as  the  author  of  the  Pleasures  of 
Hope,  and  I  shall  be  buried  as  the  author  of  the  Pleas- 
ures of  Hope."  True  enough,  the  inscription  on  his 
coflin-plate  was  "Thomas  Campbell,  author  of  the  Pleas- 
ures of  Hope." 

This  poem  was  published  when  its  author  had  hardly 
passed  his  twenty-first  year,  and  being  then  unknown  he 
sold  his  copyright  for  a  mere  trifle,  but  the  publisher 
kindly  gave  him  £50  for  each  new  edition  for  several 
years.  It  is  probable,  however,  that  it  never  yielded  him 
more  than  £350,  while  Scott  received  £1,000  for  Marmion. 

Embarked  on  the  treacherous  sea  of  literature,  the 
poet's  life  thenceforth  was  a  struggle  with  poverty  and 
other  calamities,  which  eventually  rendered  him  a  mere 
wreck,  and  he  died  in  a  French  port,  whither  he  had  gone 
for  health.  His  favorite  child  preceded  him  to  the  grave, 
and  as  the  sole  survivor  showed  signs  of  derangement 
while  yet  a  youth,  he  was  conveyed  to  an  asylum,  whence 
he  was  only  removed  by  death.  The  poet  was  also  be- 
reaved by  the  death  of  his  faithful  and  affectionate  wife, 
and  the  following  sad  picture  of  grief  and  desolation  is 
taken  from  a  brief  address  made  to  a  circle  of  friends : 

I  am  alone  in  the  world.  My  -wife  and  also  the  child  of  my 
best  hopes  are  dead,  and  the  surviving  child  is  conveyed  to  a  liv- 


122  OuE  Book. 

ing  tomb.  My  old  friends,  my  brothers  and  sisters,  are  dead,  all 
but  one,  and  she  too  is  dying.  As  for  fame,  it  is  a  bubble 
tliat  will  soon  burst.  When  earned  for  others  it  is  sweet,  but  in 
my  condition  it  can  only  be  bitter. 

What  a  sad,  and  even  terrible  confession  from  the  au- 
thor of  the  Pleasures  of  Hope,  Gertrude  of  Wyoming  and 
Hohen  Linden  —  the  best  war  poem  of  that  age.  Forty 
years  after  the  publication  of  his  first  and  greatest  work 
the  poet  lay  dying  in  Boulogne,  and  a  friend  who  was  in 
attendance  gave  the  following  sketch  of  the  closing  scene : 

At  four  in  the  afternoon  our  beloved  poet  expired  without 
a  struggle.  His  features  look  sharper  and  more  defined  than  yes- 
terday, but  they  are  perfectly  serene  —  almost  like  a  statue.  He 
lies  on  his  left  side,  his  head  and  shoulders  supported  by  pillows. 
Though  prepared,  as  I  thought,  for  the  crisis,  yet  I  confess  I  was 
so  bewildered  when  I  saw  the  head  drop  lifeless  on  the  chest  that 
I  could  hardly  lealize  the  scene. 

There  lay  the  breathless  form  of  one  who  had  impressed  all  sen- 
sitive hearts  by  the  magic  influence  of  his  geuius  —  whom  I  had 
seen  struggling  with  ditficulties  and  then  striving  to  seek  repose 
in  exile,  but  finding  it  only  in  death.  With  these  feelings  we 
gently  closed  his  eyes  that  had  now  opened  on  another  world. 

A  poor  compensation  for  the  poet's  life-long  sorrows 
was  found  in  rare  posthumous  honor.  Thomas  Camp- 
bell indeed  was  the  only  author  of  that  age  buried  in 
Westminster  Abbey  —  ranking  in  this  point  both  Scott 
and  Byron. 

The  Dunciad. 

This  satire  has  never  been  excelled  in  point  of  wit  and 
felicitous  hits  at  both  men  and  the  times.  Byron  found 
in  the  Dunciad  a  model  for  his  English  Bards  and  Scotch 
Reviewers,  and  the  latter  showed  that  the  pupil  was  not 
far  behind  the  master.  Pope  was  the  only  man  of  his 
day  whose  works  sold  sufficiently  well  to  make  their  au- 
thor independent.  This  excited  the  jealousy  of  less  for- 
tunate writers,  who  attacked  him  sharply,  and  in  some 
instances  without  justice.  He  determined,  at  last,  to  bring 
the  whole  of  this  class  to  a  settlement,  which  was  done 
in  the  Dunciad.     The  plan  was  taken  from  Dryden,  but 


CONCEKNING    BLUE   LawS.  123 

no  one  but  Pope  could  fill  it  with  such  overflowing  satire. 
The  publication  of  the  Diinciad  made  an  intense  excite- 
ment in  London.  Pope  was  then  (1728)  in  his  fortieth 
year,  and  probably  nothing  saved  him  from  personal  vio- 
lence, but  the  fact  that  he  was  a  feeble  and  shattered  in- 
valid. Sir  Robert  Walpole  presented  a  copy  of  the  Dun- 
ciad  to  the  king,  and  it  became  very  popular  in  court. 

Concerning  blue  Laws. 

This  term  is  not  American,  its  first  appearance  having 
occurred  in  London.  The  blue  ribbon  was  worn  by  the 
Scottish  convenanters  in  distir  ction  from  the  scarlet  of 
royalty,  but  that  has  no  connection  with  the  "  blue 
laws."  The  history  of  the  latter  is  as  follows  :  In  1781, 
while  the  revolution  was  in  progress,  a  history  of  Con- 
necticut was  published  in  London.  It  was  anonymous, 
and  the  evident  desire  of  the  author  was  to  vilify  the 
colonists.  The  amount  of  falsehood,  indeed,  which  the 
book  contains  is  surprising,  and  yet,  strange  to  say,  the 
author  was  a  Connecticut  clergyman,  who  had  been  driven 
from  his  parish  on  account  of  his  toryism. 

Yery  naturally  he  found  revenge  in  slander,  which  he 
put  in  book  sliape.  The  edition,  however,  must  have 
been  very  small,  for  copies  are  now  literary  curiosities. 

The  most  striking  exception  to  the  general  current  of 
abuse  is  found  in  the  following  paragraph  : 

"At  Hebron  reside  some  of  the  descendants  of  William 
Peters,  among  whom  is  Rev.  Samuel  Peters,  an  Episco- 
pal clergyman,  who  by  his  generosity  and  zeal  for  the 
Church  of  England  has  rendered  himself  famous  both  in 
old  and  New  England." 

The  reader  will  no  doubt  be  amused  to  learn  that  this 
Rev.  Samuel  Peters  is  none  other  than  the  author  of  the 
book,  who  thus  anonymously  gives  himself  a  flattering 
notice.  Having  portrayed  himself  so  favorably,  the  his- 
torian gives  the  following 

Painful  Picture. 
"  Thus  lived  these  ambitious  people  under  far  worse  per- 
secutions from  one  another  than  they  ever  experienced  or 
complained  of  in  old  England  — all  which  they  endured 


124  Our  Book. 

with  some  degree  of  patience,  the  persecuted  of  one  year 
living  in  hopes  that  the  next  would  enable  them  to  retali- 
!\te  on  their  persecutors." 

"  The  laws  made  by  this  independent  dominion  and  de- 
nominated Bkie  Laws  by  the  neighboring  colonies  were 
never  suffered  to  be  printed,  but  the  following  sketches 
of  some  of  them  will  give  a  tolerable  idea  of  the  spirit 
which  pervades  the  whole :  " 

"  No  food  or  lodging  shall  be  afforded  to  a  Quaker  or 
any  other  heretic." 

"  No  woman  shall  kiss  her  child  on  the  Sabbath  or  fast 
day." 

"  No  one  shall  read  common  prayer,  keep  Christmas  or 
saints'  days,  make  mince  pies,  dance,  play  cards  or  play  on 
any  instrument  except  the  drum,  trumpet  or  jews'  harp." 

"Every  male  shall  have  his  hair  cut  round  according  to 
a  cap." 

"  Of  this  sort  were  the  laws  made  by  the  people  of  New 
Haven.  They  consist  of  a  vast  multitude,  and  were  very 
properly  termed  Blue  Laws,  i.  e.,  bloody  laws,  for  they 
were  all  sanctified  with  excommunication,  confiscation, 
fines,  banishment,  whippings,  catting  off  the  ears,  burn- 
ing the  tongue  and  death." 

There  is  something  almost  comic  in  the  following  pic- 
ture of  the  method  of  visiting  the  sick : 

"  The  minister  demands  of  the  sick  if  he  be  converted, 
and  when  and  where.  If  the  answer  is  conformable  to 
the  system  of  the  minister,  it  is  very  well ;  if  not,  the 
sick  man  is  given  over  as  non-elect  and  no  object  for 
prayer.  Another  minister  is  then  sent  for,  who  asks  the 
sick  man  if  he  be  willing  to  die,  and  if  he  be  willing  to  be 
damned  if  it  should  please  God  to  damn  him.  Should  he 
answer  no  this  minister  quits  him  as  the  former.  Finally 
the  sick  man  dies  and  so  falls  from  their  hands  into  better." 

According  to  our  "  historian  "  New  Haven  had  in  his 
day  given  all  New  England  a  name  which  should  not  be 
forgotten.     He  writes  thus  : 

"  New  Haven  is  celebrated  for  having  given  the  name  of 
pumpkin  heads  to  all  the  New  Englanders.  It  origin- 
ated from  the  Blue  Laws,  which  enjoined  every  male  to 
have  his  hair  cut  round  by  a  cap.     When  caps  were  not 


ALEXANDER    POPE. 


Addison.  125 

to  be  had  they  substituted  the  hard  shell  of  a  pumpkin, 
which  being  put  on  the  head  every  Saturday  the  hair  is 
cut  by  the  shell  all  round  the  head." 
All  the  above  laws  are  malicious  fictions. 

An  Addisonian  Query. 
The  question  has  been  raised  whether  an  author  can 
refer  to  his  own  productions  in  terms  of  commendation. 
In  some  instances  this  has  been  done,  notwithstanding 
the  risk  of  censure,  one  of  the  most  striking  being  found 
in  Addison.  This  distinguished  writer,  after  completing 
his  tragedy  of  Cato,  felt  the  importance  of  calling  the  at- 
tention of  the  public  to  its  most  impressive  lesson  —  the 
immortality  of  the  soul.  I  find  this  in  the  Spectator  for 
December  3,  171-i,  which  opens  with  a  disquisition  on 
eternity  and  closes  thus : 

"I  have  a  translation  of  the  speech  of  Cato,  which  hath  acci- 
dentally fallen  into  my  hands,  and  which  for  conciseness,  purity 
and  elegance  cannot  be  sufficiently  admired." 

He  then  gives  the  speech  in  Latin  hexameters  on  one 
side  of  the  page,  while  the  other  side  contains  the  trans 
lation,  beginning  "  It  must  be  so :  Plato,  thou  reasonest 
well."  This  speech,  which  is  termed  Cato's  Soliloquy, 
was  in  Addison's  opinion  the  best  thing  in  the  play,  and 
hence  he  translates  it  into  Latin  and  offers  it  to  its  read- 
ers as  a  fragment  of  antiquity.  Such  is  the  example 
Addison  gives  us  of  an  author  commending  his  own 
works.  Pope  discovered  it  and  was  no  doubt  highly 
amused  at  Addison's  self-complacency,  and  when  the 
time  came  to  use  it  in  satire  he  made  it  very  effective. 
Addison  afterward  incurred  Pope's  displeasure,  and  the 
latter  retorted  by  that  scathing  paragraph  which  is  one 
of  the  brightest  things  of  that  age.  Here  he  couples 
Addison  and  his  hero  in  the  followin<r  manner: 


126  OuK  Book. 

"Like  Cato  give  his  little  senate  laws, 
And  sit  attentive  to  his  own  applause." 

Answers  to  Correspondents. 
As  this  is  now  an  acknowledged  feature  in  journalism, 
it  is  curious  to  note  its  origin,  which  is  due  to  the  humoi 
of  Addison.  Any  one  who  reads  the  Spectator  will  ob- 
serve the  occasional  replies,  of  which  the  following  is  an 
instance : 

"T.  C,  who  offers  a  love  case,  is  requested  to  speak  to  the  min- 
ister of  the  jiarish,  as  it  is  strictly  a  case  of  conscience." 

"The  poor  young  lady  who  complains  of  a  harsh  guardian,  can 
only  have  my  good  wishes  until  she  is  more  particular." 

From  the  days  of  the  Spectator  the  custom  has  been 
on  the  increase,  and  there  are  now  a  dozen  papers  in 
which  it  is  a  leading  feature. 

Immortality  of  Genius. 

Visitors  to  the  Astor  library  will  be  impressed  with 
that  power  of  intellect  which  survives  mortality.  The 
founder  of  tJiis  institution  is  dead,  and  of  the  vast  number 
of  books  now  on  the  catalogue  few  bear  the  names  of 
living  authors.  On  visiting  such  a  s])ot  I  am  reminded 
of  what  Byron  says  of  those  "  who  rule  ns  from  their 
urns."  Looking  upon  the  authors  presented  here,  what 
an  array  of  departed  genius  is  before  us!  To  go  no 
further  back  than  Shakespeare,  who  died  in  1616,  it  is 
sad  to  think  that  nothing  is  known  of  his  last  hours.  In 
fact  the  story  of  his  entire  life  is  so  brief  that  it  seems 
almost  like  a  myth.  It  is  known  however,  that  the  last 
part  of  his  life  was  spent  in  his  native  town  of  Stratford, 
and  it  is  supposed  that  he  died  suddenly,  his  age  being 
fifty-two. 

Milton  died  in  1674,  aged  sixty-six,  having  spent  sev- 
eral years  in  blindness  and  poverty.  Cowley,  whom  Pope 
so  much  admired,  died  in  1664,  aged  forty-nine.    Bunyan 


The  Immortality  of  Genius.  127 

died  in  1688,  aged  sixty.  His  Pilgrim's  Progress  had 
been  seventeen  years  in  print,  and  he  had  seen  the  begin- 
ning of  its  marvelous  popularity,  while  his  contemporary, 
Milton,  never  witnessed  the  public  admiration  of  Para- 
dise Lost,  though  it  had  been  seven  years  in  print  before 
his  death. 

Passing  from  early  poetry  to  early  fiction,  we  meet  the 
name  of  Richardson,  the  founder  of  the  English  novel, 
who  died  in  1761,  aged  seventy-two.  Fielding  who  so 
admirably  succeeded  and  excelled  him,  was  attacked  by 
a  severe  and  lingering  disease,  which  obliged  him  to  take 
a  voyage  for  his  health.  He  went  to  Lisbon  where  he 
died  in  1764,  aged  forty-eight. 

Doddridge,  the  pious  and  learned  divine,  undertook  a 

similar  voyage  for  his  health,  and  also  found  a  grave  in 

the  same  city,  being  then  only  fifty.     Pope,  who  died  in 

1744,  was  so  completely  an  invahd  that  he  could  speak 

of  "  that  long  disease  my  life,"  and   adds.  "  weak  though 

I  am  of  limb  and  short  of  sight."     Notwithstanding  this, 

lie  labored  with  an  almost  incredible  industry,  and  in  his 

verse  he  says  how 

"  Slow  the  unprofitable  moments  roll 
That  lock  up  all  the  functions  of  the  soul ; 
That  keep  me  from  myself  and  still  delay 
Life's  instant  business  to  a  future  day." 

His  frail  body,  however,  held  out  until  he  reached  his 
fifty-sixth  year. 

Johnson,  the  lexicographer,  was  the  sturdiest  in  body 
and  mind  of  all  the  literati  of  his  day.  He  was  a  labori- 
ous but  poverty-stricken  bohemian  until  his  fiftieth  year, 
and  continued  to  write  for  a  quarter  of  a  century  after- 
ward. He  died  in  1784,  in  his  seventy -fifth  year,  of  a 
protracted  disease  which  ended  in  drops3\ 

The  fear  of  dissolution  was  in  his  case  the  ruling  pas- 
sion, and  although  he  was  a  professing  Christian,  the 


128  OuB  Book. 

thought  of  deatli  gave  him  unutterable  horror.  Hence 
he  urged  his  physician  to  use  all  means,  however  painful, 
to  prolong  existence.  "  You  fear,"  said  he  to  the  latter, 
"  to  give  me  pain,  for  which  I  care  nothing  so  long  as  it 
may  extend  life."  It  was  found  after  his  deatli  that  his 
legs  were  scarred  with  incisions  which  he  had  made 
secretly  with  the  hope  of  relieving  himself  of  the  dropsi- 
cal deposit. 

Among  his  last  words  were  those  to  his  physician : 
"  Always  think  of  my  situation,  which  one  day  must  be 
yours;  always  remember  that  life  is  short  and  eternity 
never  ends.     Remember  all  this,  and  God  bless  you." 

Thomson,  author  of  the  Seasons,  lived  in  inexcusable 
indolence  after  reaching  success,  and  died  at  the  com- 
paratively early  age  of  forty-eight.  Gibbon  died  in 
turned  from  Lausanne  in  Switzerland,  where  he  had 
passed  a  number  of  studious  years,  and  where  he  wrote 
the  concluding  volumes  of  the  Decline  and  Fall.  He 
died  in  his  fifty-seventh  year  after  a  few  days'  illness,  but 
had  suffered  for  many  years  from  a  hydrocele,  which 
suddenly  inflamed  and  caused  a  speedy  death. 

Hume,  who  like  Gibbon  was  a  bachelor,  died  in  Edin- 
burgh, his  native  town,  in  1776.  He  was  sixty-seven  and 
declined  gradually,  with  a  consciousness  of  approaching 
death,  his  last  hours  being  whiled  away  by  a  game  of 
cards.  He  spoke  about  Charon  and  the  mythic  boat  with 
a  levity  which  ill  became  his  situation,  and  soon  after 
expired. 

Goldsmith  died  suddenly  in  177^,  of  nervous  fever, 
which  aggravated  a  severe  local  disorder.  He  was  only 
forty-five,  and  was  in  debt  £2,000.  "  It  was  wonderful," 
says  his  biographer,  "that  he  could  get  this  unusual 
amount  of  credit."     He  was  buried  in  the  grounds  adja- 


The  Immortality  of  Genius.  129 

cent  Temple  church,  but  his  bust  has  a  place  in  West- 
minster abbey,  near  Johnson,  who  was  his  dearest  friend. 
Chatterton  committed  suicide  in  1770,  being  then  only 
seventeen,  and  was  buried  in  a  pauper  shell  in  Shoe  lane. 
He  came  to  London  with  high  hopes  of  fame,  but  within 
a  few  months  died  in  despair.  One  cannot  think  of  him 
without  recalling  that  touching  allusion  of  Wordsworth  : 

"I  thought  of  Chatterton,  the  marvelous  boy, 
The  sleepless  youth  that  perished  in  his  pride.'' 

Churchill,  the  most  brilliant  satirist,  but  one  of  the 
worst  men  of  his  day,  died  suddenly  in  1764  —  before 
he  had  closed  his  thirty-fourth  year.  He  was  buried  in 
an  obscure  grave,  which  Byron  visited  and  described  in 
lines  beginning  thus : 

"  I  stood  beside  the  grave  of  one  who  blazed, 
The  comet  of  a  season,  and  I  saw 
The  humblest  of  all  sepulchers." 

And  where,  as  he  says,  he  learned  from  the  old  sexton's 
homily,  "  the  glory  and  the  nothing  of  a  name." 

Burns  died  in  1794,  aged  thirty-seven,  at  Dumfries, 

having  just  lost  his  only  daughter.     He  was  the  victim 

of  hard  drinking,  and  was  younger  at  the  time  of  his 

death  than  Walter  Scott  was  when  he  began  his  literary 

career. 

White  and  Keats. 

Henry  Kirke  White  and  John  Keats  both  died  early, 
and  of  the  same  disease  —  consumption  —  which  was 
aggravated  by  bitter  and  unjust  criticism.  The  first  was 
only  twenty-two,  and  the  last  was  but  four  years  older. 
Keats  was  buried  in  the  English  cemetery  at  Rome,  leav- 
ing that  sad  epitaph :  ' '  Here  lies  one  whose  name  was 
writ  in  water." 

Shelley,  in  his  twenty-ninth  year,  perished  at  sea  in  a 
gale  in  1822,  with  two  others,  being  the  entire  crew  of 
17 


130  Ode  Book. 

the  shallop  Don  Juan.  His  remains  drifted  ashore,  and 
were  burned  under  the  requirement  of  the  quarantine,  the 
funeral  pile  being  witnessed  by  Leigh  Hunt  and  Byron. 
The  ashes  were  deposited  near  Keat's  grave  at  Korae. 
Byron  soon  followed  his  atheist  friend,  dying  in  1824  of 
fever  at  Missolonghi,  whence  his  remains  were  borne  to 
his  ancestral  tomb  near  Newstead  abbey.  His  last  words 
were,  "  My  sister !  my  child  !  "  To  which  he  added,  "  Now 
I  shall  go  to  sleep,"  and  fell  into  a  slumber  from  which 
he  never  woke. 

Walter  Scott  died  in  1832,  utterly  worn  out  and  de- 
stroyed by  excessive  labor.  Judging  from  his  great  bodily 
strength,  he  should  have  lived  to  four-score,  but  he  was 
only  sixty-one.  He  was  buried  at  Dryburgh,  not  far  from 
his  own  Abbottsford. 

Coleridge  lived  to  his  sixty-second  year,  notwithstand- 
ing the  pernicious  effect  of  opium.  Charles  Lamb  died 
in  London  in  1834,  aged  seventy. 

Swift  died  in  1745,  in  Dublin,  aged  seventy-eight.  He 
had  been  dean  of  St.  Patrick's  cathedral  for  more  than 
thirty  years.  This  office  was  uncongenial,  because  of  its 
distance  from  London  and  because  of  his  own  irreligious 
character.  His  last  days  were  passed  in  a  state  of  mental 
disease,  and  he  spoke  of  himself  as  one  "  dying  like  a  tree, 
at  the  top."  Johnson,  in  his  Yanity  of  Human  Wishes, 
refers  to  him  thus : 

"From  Marlboro's  eyes  the  tears  of  dotage  flow, 
And  Swift  expires  a  driveler  and  a  show." 

His  misery  is  suggested  by  the  epitaph  which,  by  his 
own  order,  was  inscribed  thus  :  "  Hie  depositum  est  corpus 
Jonathan  Swift^  ubisceva  indvjnatlo  iilterhis  cor  lacerare 
nequity  "  PI  ere  is  deposited  the  body  of  Jonathan  Swift, 
where  bitter  indignation  can  no  more  lacerate  his  heart." 
Near  this  inscription  is  one  to  Mrs.   Hester   Johnson, 


The  Immortality  of  Genii  s.  131 

better  kncwn  as  the  unfortunate  "  Stella,"  who  died  sev- 
enteen years  before  him.  Swift  has  left  a  mysterious 
and  painful  memory. 

As  his  epitaph  suggests,  he  was  one  of  the  most  mis- 
erable of  his  raCe.  Indeed  he  appears  like  one  who  was 
under  a  curse  and  who  felt  that  curse  withering  hiin  until 
relief  came  in  death.  No  one  seems  to  have  fully  under- 
stood his  character,  and  even  Walter  Scott,  who  Avrote  his 
biography,  found  him  a  mystery.  Perhaps  no  modern 
author  except  Edgar  A.  Poe,  so  completely  embarrasses 
all  who  study  literary  character. 

YOLTAIRE    AND    GoETHE. 

"Voltaire,  commonly  called  "  the  philosopher  of  Ferney," 
died  at  that  place  in  1778,  aged  eighty-six.  Goethe  the 
"sage  of  Weimar,"  died  there  in  1832,  aged  eighty-three. 
The  year  of  his  demise  was  noted  for  the  number  of 
illustrious  names  on   its  mortuary  roll. 

Speaking  of  Goethe,  we  notice  the  contrast  between 
his  age  and  that  of  Schiller,  who  died  in  1805,  in  his 
forty-sixth  year.  This  is  young  when  we  consider  the 
fame  he  reached,  and  yet  Addison  was  but  a  year  older, 
having  died  in  1719,  aged  forty-seven.  Cowper,  though 
of  so  frail  and  delicate  an  organization,  saw  almost  the 
verge  of  three  score  and  ten,  while  the  robust  William 
Godwin  reached  eighty.  The  first  died  in  1800  and  the 
next  thirty-six  3'ears  after. 

Edmund  Burke  reached  his  sixty-eighth  year,  dying  in 
1797,  when  the  era  of  great  events  was  just  opening.  He 
had  exposed  the  ambitiouL3  progress  of  Warren  Hastings, 
but  how  little  could  he  have  dreamed  of  the  success  of 
that  far  more  wonderful  military  adventurer  who  was  just 
commencing  his  victorious  career.  Robert  Southey  a 
native  of  Bristol,  died  at  Keswick  in  1843  in  his  sixty- 


132  Our  Boog. 

ninth  year,  worn  out  by  excessive  brain  work.  Humor 
iste  seem  of  shorter  life,  for  Theodore  Hook  died  in 
London,  in  1841,  aged  fifty-three,  wliile  Hood,  like- 
wise a  Londoner,  died  in  that  city  in  his  forty-sixth  year, 
and  Jerrold  died  in  1857,  aged  fifty-four.  Leigh  Hunt, 
the  friend  of  Shelley,  died  in  London,  in  1859,  but 
reached  the  respectable  age  of  seventy-five.  James  Mont- 
gomery, whose  sacred  poetry  is  so  popular,  reached  eighty- 
three. 

Tom.  Moore  lived  to  seventy-three,  and  died  peacefully, 
at  his  cottage,  in  1852.  Hugh  Miller,  who  was  one  of 
the  most  wonderful  men  of  his  day,  fell  by  his  own  hand, 
in  1856.  His  vigorous  intellect  had  been  shattered  by 
excessive  study,  and  in  a  temporary  delirium  he  died  thus 
in  his  fifty-fourth  year.  Dickens  also  was  the  victim  of 
excessive  labor,  and  died  from  its  effects  in  1870,  aged 
fifty-eight. 

American  Authors. 

Cotton  Mather,  the  father  of  American  literature,  died 
in  1725,  and  was  buried  in  Boston,  where  he  passed  his 
whole  life,  which  was  sixty-five  years.  Jonathan  Ed- 
wards, the  greatest  metaphysician  of  his  age,  died  in 
1758,  at  Princeton  in  his  fifty-sixth  year,  and  his  tomb 
is,  with  one  exception,  the  first  in  the  long  roll  of  college 
presidents.  Charles  Brockden  Brown  died  at  Philadelphia, 
in  1810,  aged  thirty-nine.  He  was  the  earliest  American 
novelist,  and  was  read  extensively,  though  now  his  works 
are  much  neglected.  Cooper,  who  gave  American  fiction  a 
distinction  in  Europe,  reached  his  sixty-third  year  and  died 
at  Cooperstown.  Halleck  lived  to  four  score,  and  was  bur- 
ied in  his  native  town  in  Connecticut.     Everett  also  saw 

loner  life  and  is  buried  at  Mount  Auburn  where  Prescott 
o 

also  sleeps.     The  former  of  these  was  born  in  Dorchester 
and  died  in  Boston  in  1865,  aged  seventy-one,  while  the 


The  Immortality  of  Genius.  ISS 

latter  was  a  native  of  Salem  and  died  in  Boston  in  1859,  aged 
sixty-three.  Among  theologians  we  note  the  distin- 
guished Albert  Barnes,  who  died  in  1870,  in  his  seventy- 
third  year.  Poe,  the  most  peculiar  and  least  understood 
of  all  American  authors,  died  in  Baltimore,  the  place  of 
his  birth,  in  1849  aged  thirty -eight,  and  was  buried  iu 
the  Westminster  cemetery  in  that  city. 

Irvikg  and  Hawtuobne. 

Irving  died  at  Sunnyside  in  1859,  aged  seventy-seven. 
Hawthorne,  who  next  to  Poe  is  the  most  mysterious  of 
American  authors,  lived  to  sixty.  Willis  was  two  years 
older,  dying  in  1869.  These  men  were  New  Englanders, 
the  first  being  a  native  of  Salem,  while  the  second  was 
born  at  Portland ;  but  what  a  contrast  is  exhibited  in 
their  books  and  characters !  George  P.  MorricS,  whose 
name  is  so  closely  identified  with  that  of  Willis,  was  a 
native  of  Philadelphia,  and  died  in  New  York  in  1864, 
aged  sixty-two. 

Joseph  Rodman  Drake  was  the  youngest  of  all  our 
poets  at  the  time  of  his  death,  being  just  twenty-five. 
His  profession  was  medicine,  but  his  marriage  rendered 
him  independent.  His  poems  were  all  produced  in  a 
very  brief  space,  and  the  Culprit  Fay  is  due  to  the  at- 
tempt to  show  that  the  rivers  and  mountains  of  America 
are  capable  of  romantic  incident.  Drake  was  encour- 
aged by  his  friend  Halleck,  and  they  \rrote  in  a  literary 
co-partnership,  whose  signature  in  the  Evening  Post  was 
"Croaker  &  Co."  His  death,  which  occurred  in  1820, 
occasioned  Halleck's  exquisite  tribute  beginning  "  Light 
be  the  turf  above  thee,  friend  of  my  better  days."  Now 
if  the  reader  ask  why  I  have  introduced  this  detail  of 
mortality  I  reply  that  one  is  by  this  very  contrast  the 
more  impressed  with  the  immortality  of  genius.     So  far 


134:  Our  Book. 

from  being  dead,  they  have  attained  a  higher  life  and  in 

-this  retrospect  I  feel  with  renewed  power  the  lesson  given 

us  by  "Wordsworth : 

' '  For  backward  as  I  cast  my  eyes 
I  see  what  was  and  is  and  will  abide." 

The  poet  had  a  true  view  of  the  great  object  of  author- 
ship and  of  every  other  service,  as  may  be  seen  from  the 
concluding  lines  of  the  same  sonnet : 

"  The  function  never  dies 
While  we,  the  brave,  tlie  mighty  and  the  wise, 
We  men  who  in  our  morn  of  youth  defied 
The  elements,  must  vanish:  —  be  it  so! 
Enough  if  something  from  our  hands  have  power 
To  live,  and  act,  and  serve  the  future  hour: 
And  if  as  toward  the  silent  tomb  we  go, 
Through  love,  through  hope,  and  faith's  transcendent  dower 
We  feel  that  we  are  greater  than  we  know." 

Authors'   Graves. 

Cooper  rests  in  the  town  that  bears  his  name,  where, 
indeed,  he  spent  the  best  years  of  his  life.  Mrs.  Sigour- 
ney  is  buried  in  Hartford,  but  Percival,  who  was  the  best 
American  poet  of  his  day,  fills  an  obscure  grave  in  Wiscon- 
sin. Halleck  is  buried  in  his  native  Guilford  —  a  place 
that  he  loved  with  deepest  intensity.  He  left  Guilford 
and  came  to  New  York,  where  he  spent  a  half  century, 
and  then  returned  and  finished  his  course  amid  the  scenes 
of  his  youth.  Bayard  Taylor,  who  died  abroad,  was  borne 
to  his  early  home  (Kenneth  square),  and,  like  Halleck, 
found  a  grave  in  the  spot  where  his  happiest  days  were 
passed.  Longfellow  is  one  of  the  honors  of  Mount  Au- 
burn. Hawthorne  and  Emerson  rest  in  Concord.  Willis 
and  Morris,  who,  though  authors  of  once  popular  books, 
are  best  remembered  as  the  founders  of  the  Home  Journal, 
were  buried  in  Greenwood.  So  was  David  Hale,  the 
founder  of  the  Journal  of  Commerce.  Robert  C.  Sands 
and  William  L.  Stone,  the  one  the  p<^t  of  the  Commer- 


Effokis  for  Fame.  135 

cial  Advertiser  and  the  other  formerly  its  editor-in-chief, 
are  buried,  tlie  first  in  St.  Paul's  church  and  the  other  in 
Saratoga  Springs,  Greenwood  holds  high  distinction  in 
the  record  of  genius.  One  may  find  there  the  graves 
of  the  Gary  sisters  (Alice  and  Phebe),  whose  effusions 
were  once  so  popular.  Raymond,  Bennett  and  Greeley, 
the  three  greatest  editors  of  their  day,  are  also  buried 
there.  Bennett's  monument  is  one  of  the  most  expen- 
sive in  the  entire  grounds,  but  Greeley  only  asked 
that  "  Founder  of  the  New  York  Tribune "  should 
be  inscribed  over  his  grave,  and  this  has  been  done. 
Bryant  was  laid  by  the  side  of  his  wife  at  Roslyn. 
to  which  place  his  name  gives  its  sole  distinction.  Audu- 
bon, the  naturalist,  lies  in  the  family  plat  in  Trinity  ceme- 
tery. John  S.  C.  Abbott,  once  noted  for  his  fictitious 
histories,  was  buried  in  New  Haven.  Fulton,  of  steam- 
boat fame,  is  among  the  mighty  dead  of  Trinity  church- 
yard, but  has  no  monument.  Being  connected  with  the 
Livingstons,  he  was  placed  in  the  family  vault.  Joseph 
Rodman  Drake,  being  connected  in  a  similar  manner  with 
the  Eckfords,  had  the  same  degree  of  mortuary  hospitality. 
Joel  Barlow,  Theodore  Parker  and  the  historian  Mot- 
ley—  a  rare  trio  of  intellectual  distinction  —  died  abroad 
and  were  laid  in  foreign  graves. 

Efforts  for  Fame. 
How  quickly  the  dead  j)ass  out  of  notice !  The  con- 
sciousness of  inevitable  oblivion  is  painful  to  a  sensitive 
or  an  ambitious  mind,  and  for  this  reason  men  are  pleased 
at  the  thought  that  their  names  may  survive.  Among  the 
early  instances  of  this  kind  is  Horace's  self-congratulation 
in  that  ecstatic  ode  beginning  "  Exegi  monumentum  cere 
ferennius^''  and  true  enough  his  works  prove  an  enduring 
monument,     Virgil,  too,  felt  the  same  craving  for  remem- 


136  Our  Book. 

brance,  which  is  expressed  in   the  tenth  line  of  his  third 

Georgic,  where,  after  referring  to  the  achievements  of 

others,  he  says : 

" tentanda  via  est  que  me  quoque  passim 

Tellere  hurao  victor  que  virum  volitare  per  ora," 

which  may  be  translated  as  follows:  "I  too,  must  attempt 
a  way  whereby  to  lift  me  from  the  ground  and  victorious 
spread  my  fame  through  the  mouths  of  men."  Fielding 
enjoyed  the  assurance  of  a  share  in  the  immortality  of 
genius  to  which  he  thus  gives  utterance  :  "  Come,  bright 
love  of  fame.  Comfort  me  by  the  solemn  assurance  that 
when  the  little  parlor  in  which  I  now  sit  shall  be  changed 
for  a  worse  furnished  box,  I  shall  be  read  with  honor  by 
those  who  never  knew  or  saw  me." 

Danton,  when  sentenced  to  death  by  the  revolutionary 
tribunal,  exclaimed  :  "  My  name  will  be  found  in  the 
Pantheon  of  history."  He  did  not  believe  in  existence 
after  death,  and  yet  could  not  surrender  his  name  to  annihi- 
lation. The  same  idea  which  animated  the  atheist  French- 
man when  facing  the  guillotine,  was  confessed  by  even  the 
humble  and  devoted  missionarv,  David  Brainerd,  who  thus 
records  his  frailties  in  his  journal :  "  The  sins  I  had  most 
sense  of  were  pride  and  a  wandering  mind,  and  the  former 
of  these  evil  thoughts  excited  me  to  think  of  writing  and 
preaching,  and  converting  the  heathen  or  performing 
some  other  great  work  that  my  name  might  live  when  I 
should  be  dead."  No  doubt  the  pyramid  builders  cher- 
ished the  same  expectation,  but  their  names  are  lost  though 
their  work  remains  —  from  which  Byron  draws  the  follow- 
ing lesson : 

"  Let  not  a  monument  give  you  or  me  hopes 
Since  not  a  pinch  of  dust  remains  of  Cheops." 

Byron,  next  to  Shakespeare,  has  a  more  enduring  fame 
than  any  poet  in  our  language,  and  yet  it  is  evident  that 


Ek Fours  FOR  Fame.  137 

he  had  a  clear  view  of  his  final  end  —  oblivion.     Look  at 

tliese  lines : 

"What  is  the  end  of  Fame  ?     'Tis  but  to  fill 
A  certain  portion  of  uncertain  paper; 
Some  liken  it  to  climbing  up  a  hill 

Whose  summit,  like  all  hills,  is  lost  in  vapor." 

Again,  when  viewing  the  monument  of  the  warrior  and 

tlio  poet,  he  thus  expresses  the  same  idea: 

The  time  must  come  when  loth  alike  decayed, 
Tiie  chieftain's  trophy  and  the  poet's  volume, 
Will  sink  where  lie  the  songs  or  wars  of  earth. 
Before  Pelides'  death  or  Homer's  birth." 

Cowley  pathetically  exclaims  : 

What  shall  I  do  to  be  forever  known. 
And  make  the  coming  age  my  own. 

Gay,  on  other  hand,  having   published   the  Beggar's 

Opera,  and  some  other  things  which  gave  him  temporary 

distinction,  makes  the  following  humorous  boast : 

"  And  now  complete  my  generous  labors  lie 
Finished  and  ripe  for  immortality. 
Death  shall  entomb  in  dust  this  mouldering  frame 
But  never  reach  the  eternal  part  —  my  fame. 
When  Ward  and  Gildou,  mighty  names,  are  dead, 
Or  but  at  Chelsea  imder  custards  read ; 
When  ])oems  crazy  bandboxes  repair 
And  tragedies  turned  rockets  bounce  in  air. 
High  raised  on  Fleet  street  ports  consigned  to  fame 
This  work  shall  shine  and  readers  bless  my  name." 

Unfortunately,  however,  the  only  thing  of  Gay's  that 

holds  a  place  in  current  literature  is  the  couplet  from  tlie 

Beggar's  Opera  : 

"How  happy  I  could  be  with  either 
Were  t'other  dear  charmer  away." 

Those  who  desire  memory  can  accomplish  their  end  in 
no  better  way  than  by  erecting  some  permanent  benefit 
to  the  race.  And  now,  reader,  let  me  apply  this  feature 
in  our  race  to  the  Donnelly-Baconian  theory.  As  the 
We  of  fame  is  admitted  to  be  the  universal  passion,  it 
affords  one  of  the  most  convincing  proofs  that  Bacon  was 
18 


188  Our  Book. 

not  the  author  of  Shakespeare's  plays.  If  Bacon,  indeed, 
were  willing  to  throw  away  the  fame  inseparable  from 
these  productions,  he  must  have  been  au  isolated  exception 
to  the  rest  of  mankind. 

Literary  Publishers. 

It  is  very  rare  to  find  the  book  trade  successful  in 
authorship.  The  first  literary  publisher  was  Richardson, 
the  author  of  Clarissa  Harlowe,  and  several  other  prosy 
novels.  He  was  a  London  printer  in  the  time  of  Pope, 
and  reached  fifty  before  he  attempted  authorship.  His 
works  were  then  popular,  but  are  now  hardly  known  even 
by  name.  Perhaps  the  most  interesting  feature  in  his 
literary  history  is  the  fact  that  Fielding  wrote  Joseph 
Andrews  in  order  to  ridicule  Pamela,  and  the  parody 
has  outlived  the  original. 

The  next  literary  publisher  was  Dodsley  who  began 
life  as  a  servant,  but  having  published  a  volume  of  poems, 
called  The  Muse  in  Livery,  he  was  led  to  exchange  his 
humble  position  for  a  small  book-store.  His  success  was 
of  a  striking  character,  and  his  establishment  increased 
in  size  until  it  was  the  resort  of  the  literati  of  London. 
He  wrote  several  popular  dramas,  and  began  the  Museum, 
which  was  an  influential  periodical.  The  once  literary 
menial  thus  became  an  opulent  publisher,  and  also  a  re- 
spectable author.  He  published  for  Johnson  during  his 
early  struggles,  and  was  an  intimate  friend  of  Burke. 
He  also  published  for  Shenstone  and  Chesterfield,  and 
his  collection  of  poems  was  for  many  years  the  best  poetic 
miscellany  in  existence.  Dodsley  thus  leaves  a  very  in- 
teresting record. 

Turning  to  our  own  shores,  Benjamin  Franklin  was  the 
first  literary  publisher,  and  one  of  his  earliest  efforts  in 
Philadelphia  was  the  History  of  the  Quakers. 


Neglected  Beauties.  139 

Literature  like  tlie  ocean  has  its  "  flotsam,"  and  many 
a  precious  utterance  has  drifted  to  oblivion.  Heuce  I 
have  often  thought  that  a  good  service  might  be  done  by- 
gathering  them  as  amber  is  gathered  from  the  sea.  Poet- 
ical collections  however,  rarely  give  satisfaction,  because 
every  reader  has  his  own  preference — sometimes  a  very 
strange  one,  and  Lockhart  tells  ns  that  Scott's  favorite 
was  "  The  Yanity  of  Human  Wishes."  Who  would  have 
thought  that  this  melancholy  poem  could  please  the  great 
master  of  romance  ? 

To  return  to  poetical  collections,  I  have  often  been  sur- 
prised at  the  omissions  which  occur  in  such  workSo  For 
instance,  I  know  one,  unusually  elaborate,  from  which 
Henry  Kirke  White's  sonnet  to  his  dear  mother  is  omitted 
(while  other  specimens  of  his  poems  appear)  and  yet  that 
Bonnet  is  the  finest  of  his  productions.  So,  also,  Milman's 
"Apollo  Belvidere"  is  omitted  from  the  specimens  of 
that  author,  and  yet  it  is  the  best  thing  he  ever  wrote,  and 
then  L.  E.  L.'s  most  exquisite  effusion  shares  the  same 
neglect.  How  strange  it  also  seems  that  every  American 
collection  should  omit  Sand's  ]>oem  on  The  Dead  of  1832! 

Saved  by  a  Couplet. 

Two  American  writers  have  been  saved  from  oblivion, 
each  by  a  couplet.  One  was  William  Martin  Johnson,  a 
literary  physician  who  died  in  1796  while  yet  a  young 
man.  His  epitaph  on  a  young  lady  is  his  only  production 
worthy  of  remembrance. 

Here  sleep  in  dust  and  wait  the  Almighty's  will 
Then  rise  unchanged  and  be  an  angel  still. 

The  other  was  Jonathan  Mitchell  Sewall,  a  'New  Eng- 
land lawyer  who  lived  to  three  score  and  published  a 
volume  of  poems.  One  of  these  is  an  epilogue  to  Cato  in 
which  occur  the  following  well-known  lines : 

No  pent-up  Utica  contracts  your  powers 
But  the  whole  boundless  continent  is  yours. 


14:0  Cue  Book. 

PLAGIARISM. 

The  best  authors  are  sometimes  accused  of  plagiarism, 
simply  because  the  same  ideas  may  occur  to  different 
men.  One  of  the  finest  things  in  Yirgil  is  the  allusion 
to  the  power  of  sympathy  thus  uttered  by  the  Cartha- 
genian  queen : 

"Non  ignara  mali,  miseris  succerrere  disco," 
which  may  be  translated.     "  Myself  no  stranger  to  misfor- 
tune, I  have  learned  to  succor  the  distressed."     I  find  the 
same  idea  in  Garrick's  appeal  in  behalf  of  the  impover- 
ished play  actors  of  his  day. 

"  Their  cause  T  plead  —  plead  it  with  heart  and  mind. 
A  fellow  feeling  makes  one  wondrous  kind." 

One  finds  on  close  examination  that  there  is  very  little 
real  originality,  since  authors  either  insensibly  drink  in 
other  men's  thoughts,  or  else  have  the  same  ideas  sug- 
gested by  what  is  commonly  termed  inspiration. 

The  basest  form  of  plagiarism  is  the  deliberate  stealing 
of  an  author's  entire  production.  This  is  of  course,  a 
complimentary  expression  of  admiration,  but  no  one  wants 
to  be  robbed,  even  in  a  complimentary  manner.  Instances 
of  this  kind  are  to  be  met  all  throngh  the  history  of 
literature.  Yirgil  found  his  verses  in  eulogy  of  Augustus 
stolen  by  Bathyllus,  but  he  cunningly  set  a  trap  for  the 
latter,  who  was  easily  detected. 

"When  Mackenzie  (Scotland's  best  novelist  before  Sir 
Walter)  published  anonymously  the  Man  of  Feeling,  it 
was  immediately  claimed  by  an  Englishman  named  Ec- 
cles,  who  lived  in  Bath.  The  latter,  to  support  his  claim, 
transcribed  the  entire  book  with  his  own  hand,  and 
offered  the  manuscript  in  evidence.  Mackenzie  was 
then  obliged  to  prove  the  authenticity  of  the  work,  which 
was  done  in  the  clearest  manner. 


Plagiarism.  141 

The  continued  tendency  to  this  kind  of  larceny  is  illus- 
trated by  William  Allen  Butler's  Nothing  to  Wear,  a 
poem  which  on  its  first  appearance  created  a  marked  sensa- 
tion in  fashionable  circles,  being  in  fact  the  best  satire  of 
the  kind  in  existence.  It  was  universally  read,  and  all 
were  eloquent  in  admiration.  The  literary  world,  how- 
ever, was  soon  startled  by  the  announcement  that  Butler 
waaa  wholesale  plagiarist.  This  charge  was  brought  by 
a  clergyman  named  Peck,  who  claimed  (and  no  doubt 
really  believed)  that  his  daughter  was  the  author.  He 
said  that  he  heard  her  repeating  extracts,  and  when  he 
asked  who  wrote  it  she  replied,  "Why,  pa,  I  wrote  it 
myself."  According  to  Peck's  theory,  the  daughter  had 
lost  the  manuscript  in  a  street  car,  and  Butler  having 
found  it,  had  claimed  the  honor. 

The  best  way  to  meet  such  a  case  originated  with 
Virgil,  and  was  also  suggested  by  Butler's  friends.  Yir- 
gil  wrote  some  half  lines,  and  Bathyllus,  being  asked  to 
finish  them,  was  self-exposed.  Miss  Peck,  when  asked 
to  furnish  some  other  effusions,  failed  entirely,  and  this 
at  once  silenced  her  claims. 

In  the  same  manner  Campbell's  Exile  of  Erin,  which 
is  his  sweetest  poem,  was  claimed  by  a  man  named 
Nugent,  whose  sister  swore  that  she  saw  the  poem  in  the 
handwriting  of  the  latter  before  the  date  of  Campbell's 
publication.  Nugent's  claim  was  maintained  by  a  pro- 
vincial editoi*  to  Campbell's  great  annoyance,  but  tlie 
public  (as  in  the  case  of  Butler)  readily  discerned  the  true 
author.  Another  very  prominent  case  is  the  appearance 
of  that  beautiful  poem,  If  I  Should  Die  To-night,  in 
Jess,  by  H.  Rider  Haggard.  The  true  author  is  Miss 
Bel  Smith  of  Tabor  College,  Iowa. 

E.EMAKKABLE    PaBALLELS. 

Disraeli   gives   some   interesting   literary   parallels,  to 


142  Our  Book. 

which  I  add  the  following  which  have  come  under  my 
personal  observation.  Longfellow's  Village  Blacksmith 
is  a  very  pretty  picture,  but  it  recalls  a  rustic  poem  by 
William  Halloway  who  writes  thus : 

"  Beneath  yon  elders,  furred  with  blackening  smoke, 
The  sinewy  smith  with  many  a  labored  stroke 
His  clinking  anvil  i)\\(id  in  shed  obscure, 
And  truant  schoolboys  loitered  near  the  door." 

Longfellow  presents  the  same  scene  in  the  following  lines: 

"Under  a  spreading  chestnut  tree 
The  village  smithy  stands ; 
The  smith,  a  mighty  man  is  he, 
With  large  and  sinewy  hands. 

And  children  coming  home  from  school 

Look  in  at  the  open  door. 
They  love  to  see  the  flaming  forge 

And  hear  the  bellows  roar." 

His  much  admired  verse  in  the  Psalm  of  Life : 

"Art  is  long  and  time  is  fleeting, 

And  our  hearts,  though  strong  and  brave, 
Still  like  muffled  drums  are  beating 
Funeral  marches  to  the  grave." 

is  but  a  repetition  of  the  idea  given  in  Bishop  King's 

exequy  to  his  deceased  wife : 

''  But  hark,  my  soul  like  a  soft  drum 
Beats  my  approach,  tells  thee  I  come." 

Another  of  his  expressions  recalls  the  lines  by  Scott, 

who  in  Marmion,  makes  injured  Constance  say : 

"  Now  men  of  death  go  work  your  will 
For  I  can  suffer  and  be  still." 

Longfellow's  verses  thus  render  the  same  idea : 

''  O,  fear  not  in  a  world  like  this. 
And  thou  shalt  know  ere  long. 
Know  how  sublime  a  thing  it  is 
To  suffer  and  be  strong." 

"We  may  find  another  striking  parallel,  between  Crabbe 
and  Longfellow  in  the  following  extracts,  the  one  being 
taken  from  Silf ord  Hall,  and  the  other  from  Longfellow's 


Plagiarism.  143 

Morituri  vos  Salutainiis,  which  is  one  of  the  best  things 

he  ever  wrote.     Crabbe's  lines  are  the  following : 

"Dream  on,  dear  boy;  let  pass  a  few  brief  years 
Replete  with  troubles,  comforts,  hopes,  aad  feara 
Bold  expectations,  efforts,  wild  and  strong, 
Tliou  shalt  find  thy  bold  conjectures  wrong, 

"  Imagination  rules  thee ;  thine  are  dreams, 
And  everything  to  thee  is  what  it  seems. 
Thou  seest  the  surfaces  of  things  that  pass 
Before  thee  colored  by  thy  fancy's  glass." 

Longfellow  gives  the  same  idea  thus : 

"  How  beautiful  is  youth  I     How  bright  it  gleams 
With  its  illusions,  aspirations,  dreams; 
Book  of  beginnings;  story  without  end; 
Each  maid  a  heroine  and  each  man  a  friend. 
All  possibilities  are  in  thy  hand  ; 
No  danger  daunts  thee,  and  no  foe  withstands. 
In  its  sublime  audacity  of  faith. 
Be  thou  removed  it  to  the  mountain  saith; 
And  with  ambitious  feet,  secure  and  proud, 
Ascends  the  ladder  leaning  on  the  cloud." 

Wordsworth's  best  utterance — "the  child  is  the  father 
of  the  man  "  —  is  but  a  reproduction  of  Milton's  lines  : 

The  childhood  shows  the  man, 

As  morning  shows  the  day. 

Dryden,  Chaucer  and  Others. 

While  speaking  on  the  similarity  between  authors  who 

may  be  removed  by  distance  of  years  and  nationalities,  I 

am  reminded  of  the  old  expression,  "  making  a  virtue  of 

necessity."     Dryden,  in  Palamon  and  Arcite,  writes : 

"Then,  'tis  our  best,  since  thus  ordained  to  die. 
To  make  a  virtue  of  necessity." 

Chaucer  writes  : 

"That  I  made  a  virtue  of  necessity  and  took  it  well." 

A  striking  similarity  occurs  between  Jean  Ingelow  and 

Wordsworth,  as  a  brief  extract  will  show.     The  former 

writes  thus  concerning  life's  failures  : 

"  We  are  much  bound  to  them  that  do  succeed, 
But  in  a  more  pathetic  sense  are  bound 


144  OuK  Book. 

To  such  as  fail.     They  all  our  loss  expound; 

They  comfort  us  for  work  that  will  not  speed. 
Aye,  his  deed, 
Sweetest  in  story  who  the  dusk  profound 
Of  Hades  flooded  with  entrancing  sound, 

Music's  own  tears,  was  failure.     Doth  it  read, 

Therefore,  the  worse?     Ah,  no." 

How  much  does  this  beautiful  extract  reminds  us  of 
Wordsworth's  lines : 

"Oh,  life,  without  thy  chequered  scene 
Of  right  and  wrong,  success  and  failure, 
Could  a  ground  for  magnanimity  be  found, 
Or  whence  could  virtue  flow?" 

Critics  have  recently  discovered  that  Byron  in  some  of 
liis  finest  passages  merely  reproduced  French  poetry. 
This  is  particularly  true  with  respect  to  the  Dying  Glad- 
iator. I  may,  in  connection  with  this  statement,  allnde 
to  the  fact  that  in  Lara  he  reproduces  some  ideas  which  I 
have  found  in  West,  an  obscure  and  half  forgotten  poet 
of  the  last  century. 

I  quote  from  Lara  thus  : 

"  The  sun  is  in  the  heavens  and  splendor  in  the  beam. 
Health  in  the  gale  and  freshness  in  the  stream; 
Immortal  man  behold  these  glories  shine, 
And  cry  exultingly,  they're  mine. 
Gaze  on  while  yet  thy  gladdened  eye  may  see, 
A  morrow  comes  when  they  are  not  for  thee; 
And  grieve  what  may  above  tliy  senseless  bier 
Nor  earth,  nor  sky  will  yield  a  single  tear. 
Nor  cloud  shall  gather  more,  nor  leaf  shall  fall. 
Nor  gale  breathe  forth  one  sigh  for  tliee  for  all. '' 

Let  the  above  extract  be  compared  with  West  as  he 
writes  in  Ad  Amicos : 

"  For  me  whene'er  all  conquering  death  shall  spread 
His  wings  around  my  unrepiuing  head, 
I  care  not  though  this  face  be  seen  no  more; 
The  world  will  pass  as  cheerful  as  before, 
Bright  as  before  the  day  star  will  appear, 
The  fields  as  verdant  and  the  skies  as  clear; 
Nor  storms,  nor  comets  will  my  doom  declare. 
Nor  signs  on  earth,  nor  portents  in  tlie  air; 
Unknown  and  silent  will  depart  my  breath, 
Nor  nature  ere  take  notice  of  my  deatii." 


Plagiarism.  145 

Byron  and  James  Hall. 

I  will  add  another  instance,  which  connects  the  name  of 
Bjron  with  that  of  James  Hall.  The  latter  spent  part  of  liis 
days  in  Illinois,  but  afterward  removed  to  Cincinnati,  where 
he  became  a  member  of  the  bar  and  also  a  man  of  letters. 

The  following  occni's  in  Hall's  poem  on  Solitude : 

"But  whea  the  friends  of  youth  are  goue, 

And  the  strong  ties  of  l)lood 
And  sympathy  are  riven  one  by  one, 
The  heart,  bewildered  and  alone. 

Desponds  in  solitude. 

"Though  crowds  may  smile  and  pleasures  gleam 

To  chase  its  lonely  mood  ; 
To  that  lone  heart  the  world  doth  seem 
An  idle  and  a  frightful  dream 

Of  hopeless  solitude." 

The  above  reminds  us  of  the  following  extract  from 
Hours  of  Idleness : 

"I  loved,  but  those  I  loved  are  gone. 

Had  friends — my  early  friends  are  dead; 
How  cheerless  feels  the  heart  alone, 

When  all  its  former  hopes  are  fled ! 
Though  gay  companions  o'er  the  bowl, 

Dispel  awhile  the  sense  of  ill ; 
Though  pleasure  stirs  the  maddening  soul, 

The  heart,  the  heart  is  lonely  still." 

It  is  hardly  proper,  however,  to  call  this  a  plagiarism, 
for  Byron's  maiden  volume  may  never  have  fallen  into 
the  hands  of  the  early  rhymester  referred  to  above. 
Hours  of  Idleness  is  but  little  read,  and  hence  the  above 
may  be  considered  one  of  those  coincidences  which  so 
often  occur,  both  in  thought  and  utterance. 

Gray,  Pope,  Emily. 
Whoever  heard  of  a  poet  called  Emily,  and  yet  such  a 
name  is  on  record,  and  his  poem  on  Death  is  still  extant. 
I  refer  to  it  simply  because  it  gives  us  two  expressions 
found  in  Gray's  clergy.  He  speaks  of  the  dawn  of  that 
inevitable  day,  and  also  refers  to  the  virtuous 
19 


146  Odb  Book. 

''  Gently  reposing  on  some  friendly  breast,'' 

an  idea  which  Gray  renders 

"  On  some  fond  breast  the  parting  soul  relies." 

In   the  same   poem  Emily  presents  an   idea  which  is 

found  in  Pope : 

"  Tiie  seasons  as  they  fly 
Snatcli  from  us  in  their  course,  year  after  year, 
Some  sweet  connection,  some  endearing  tie." 

Pope  writes  thus : 

"Years  following  years  steal  something  every  day. 
At  last  they  steal  us  from  ourselves  away." 

and  we  find  tlie  same  idea  in  Horace,  from  whom  Pope 

no  doubt  obtained  it. 

To  return  to  Gray,  I  find  liim  indebted  to  Pope,  who, 

in  the  Rape  of  the  Lock,  writes  thus  : 

"  There  kept  my  charms  concealed  from  mortal  eye, 
Like  roses  that  in  deserts  bloom  and  die. " 

This  was,  perhaps,  the  origin  of  that  oft-quoted  coup- 
let in  the  elegy : 

"  Full  many  a  flower  is  born  to  blush  unseen, 
And  waste  its  fragrance  on  the  desert  air." 

Another  curious  parallel  is  found  between  Robert  Blair 
and  Campbell.     The  former  in  tlie  Grave  speaks  of 

"  visits 
Like  those  of  angels  few  and  far  between," 

and  Campbell,  in  the  Pleasures  of  Hope,  exclaims  : 

"  What  though  my  winged  hours  of  bliss  have  been 
Like  angels'  visits  few  and  far  between." 

How  strange  it  seems  that  Campbell  never  changed  these 
lines  although  his  attention  was  called  to  the  similarity. 

It  may  be  added  that  there  is  also  an  undesigned  simi- 
larity between  those  beautiful  lines  with  Mdiich  Campbell 
opens  the  Pleasures  of  Hope,  and  the  following  from 
Dyer's  Grongar  Hill  : 

"  As  yon  summits  soft  and  fair 
Clad  in  colors  of  the  air. 
Which  to  those  wlio  journey  near 
Barren,  brown  and  rough  appear." 


Plagiaeism.  147 


Campbell  writes : 


"  'Tis  distance  lends  enchantment  to  tlie  view 
And  robes  the  mountain  in  its  azure  hue. 

Other  Parallels. 

Elijah  Fenton,  who  lived  in  the  days  of  Pope,  but  was 

a  dozen  years  his  senior,  made  the  following  remarks  on 

the  rich  men  of  his  day  : 

"  Some,  by  the  sordid  thirst  of  gain  controlled, 
Starve  in  their  stores,  and  cheat  themselves  for  gold; 
Preserve  the  precious  bane  with  anxious  care, 
In  vagrant  lusts  to  feed  a  lavish  heir." 

Crabbe,   a  century  afterward,  thus   renders   the  same 

lesson  : 

"  To  all  the  wealth  my  father's  care  laid  by 
I  added  wings  and  taught  it  how  to  fly, 
To  him  that  act  had  been  of  grievous  sight. 
But  he  survived  not  to  behold  the  flight, 
The  rest  was  flown  —  I  speak  it  with  remorse  — 
And  now  a  pistol  seemed  a  thing  of  course." 

Another  picture  is  from  Thompson,  being  found  In  his 
Castle  of  Indolence : 

"  Here  you  a  muck-worm  of  the  town  might  see. 
At  his  dull  desk  amid  his  ledgers  stalled, 
Eat  up  with  carping  care  and  penury, 

More  like  to  carcass  pitched  on  gallows  tree. 

"  Straight  from  the  filth  of  this  low  grub  behold 
Comes  fluttering  forth  a  gaudy  spendthrift  heir, 

All  glossy,  gay,  enameled  all  with  gold. 
The  silly  tenant  of  the  summer  air, 

In  folly  lost,  of  notliing  takes  he  care ; 

Pimps,  lawyers,  stewards,  harlots,  flatterers  vile. 

And  thieving  tradesmen  him  among  them  share.'' 

Pope,  who  was  as  close  an  observer  as  that  age  pro- 
duced, wrote  in  a  similar  strain  concerning  the  useless 
hoards  of  some  of  the  misers  of  that  day : 

"  At  best  it  falls  to  some  ungracious  son. 
Who  cries,  My  father's  damned  and  all's  my  own." 

The  same  author  saw   so  many  estates  broken  up  and 


148  Our  Book. 

dissolved  under  spendthrift  hands,  that  he  might  well  add 

as  the  result  of  his  observation  : 

*'  Riches,  like  insects  when  concealed,  they  lie. 
Wait  but  for  wings  and  in  their  season  fly; 
Who  sees  jjale  Mammon  pine  amid  his  store, 
Sees  but  a  backward  steward  for  the  poor; 
This  year  a  reservoir  with  none  to  spare, 
The  next  a  fountain  spouting  through  his  heir." 

Dr.  Johnson,  like  Pope,  was  a  keen  observer  of  the 
follies  of  society,  and  had  a  ready  turn  for  satire.  Tiiis 
hu  shows  in  his  lines  addressed  to  Sir  Jolm  Lade.  The  lat- 
ter was  a  young  rake  who  had  just  come  of  age,  and  Wi\s 
going  rapidly  through  a  large  estate.  He  annoyed  John- 
sou  by  some  foolish  words,  and  got  the  following  reply  : 

"  Long  expected  one  and  twenty, 

Lingering  year  at  length  has  flown; 

Pride  and  pleasure,  pomp  and  plenty, 

Great  Sir  John,  are  now  your  own. 

"  Loosened  from  the  minor's  tether, 
Free  to  mortgage  or  to  sl-II  ; 
Wild  as  wind  and  free  as  feather, 
Bid  the  sons  of  thrift  farewell. 

"  Wealth,  my  lad,  was  made  to  wander, 
Let  it  wander  as  it  will; 
Call  the  jockey,  call  the  pander. 
Bid  them  come  and  take  their  fill. 

''  All  that  i:)rey  on  vice  and  folly 
Joy  to  see  their  victim  fly; 
There  the  gamester,  light  and  jolly, ' 
There  the  lender,  grave  and  sly. 

"  Should  the  guardian,  friend  or  mother, 
Tell  the  woes  of  willful  waste, 
Scorn  their  counsel,  scorn  their  pother. 
You  can  hang  or  drown  at  last." 

After  a  lapse  of  a  century,  the  same  idea  forcibly  re- 
appears in  the  following  stanzas,  written  in  Paris  by 
Roswell  Smith,  who  was  then  making  a  European  tour. 
He  had  been  to  see  a  grand  performance  of  Faust,  and 
the  lesson  of  the  occasion  is  thus  powerfully  given.  Such 
is  the  history  of  the  poem  given  me  by  its  author.  The 
title  is  What  the  Devil  Said  to  the  Young  Man : 


Plagiarism.  149 

"  0 !  youtli  so  brave  aud  stroufj, 
The  uiaiden's  looks  belie  lier; 
Thougii  she  seem  shy,  a  song, 
A  kiss —  well,  only  try  her! 

"  Love  is  the  wine  of  life, 

That  flows  alone  for  pleasure; 
Dull  husband  and  tame  wife 

Know  not  the  sparkling  measure. 

''  Discovery  —  that's  crime ; 
No  sin  but  this,  no  sorrow; 
No  punishment  in  time  — 
None  in  the  far  to-morrow! 

"  Drink  off  the  golden  cream 

Of  youth,  and  wealth  and  pleasure; 
Then  spill  life's  purple  stream. 
And  drop  the  empty  measure!" 

As  Sliakespeai'e  contains  sometliing  on  every  subject, 
the  reader  will  find  that  he  has  not  omitted  one  so  import- 
ant as  this.  In  his  day,  as  in  all  times  before  and  after,  the 
same  evils  marked  society.    We  find  King  Henry  speaking 

thus : 

"  See,  sons,  what  things  you  are; 
For  this  tlie  foolish  overcareful  fathers, 
Have  broke  their  sleep  with  thoughts, 
Tlieir  brains  with  care. 
Their  bones  with  industry; 
For  this  they  have  engrossed  and  piled  up 
Their  cankered  heaps  of  strange  achieved  gold.'' 

Mrs.  Norton,  also. 
Many  of  our  readers  are  familiar  with  Mrs.  Norton's 
beautiful  poem,  Bingen  on  the  Rhine,  which  begins  thus  : 

"A  soldier  of  the  Legion  lay  dying  in  Algiers." 

Tlie  same  idea  occurs  in  an  anonymous  poem,  which  the 

writer  found  in  an  old  London  periodical.      The   first 

verse  is  as  follows  : 

"  A  knight  of  valor  and  of  rank  lay  on  his  couch  of  death ; 
And  thus   he   to  his  kmsmen  spoke,    with  faint  and   fleeting 

breath ; 
'Farewell!    farewell!    Soon   must   I   lie  witliin    the  darksome 

grave ; 
No  longer  gaze  on  this  fair  world,  and  all  its  beauties  brave,'" 


150  Our  Book. 

If  Mrs.  Norton's  poem  were  not  suggested  by  the  one 
to  which  reference  has  just  been  made,  then  there  is  a 
very  strange  coincidence  between  these  two  productions. 

We  find  occasionally  remarkable  identities  of  thought 

among  authors  widely  separated  in  thought  and   taste. 

Who,  for  instance,  would  expect  Miss  Elizabeth   Stuart 

Phelps  to  rejDroduce  an    idea  so  vividly  presented  by 

Moore  in  his  Loves  of  the  Angels : 

"Had  now  careered  so  fast  and  far 
That  earth  itself  seemed  left  behind, 
And  her  proud  fancy  unconfined, 
Already  saw  heaven's  gates  a-jarP 

Here,  nowever,  we  have  the  title  of  one  of  her  books. 

Byeon  and  Coleridge. 

Another  very  striking  instance  of  the  same  character 

is  found  in  the  close  resemblance  between  Byron  and 

Coleridge  as  shown  by  the  following  extracts  —  the  first 

being  from  the  Siege  of  Corinth  : 

*'  Was  it  the  wind,  through  some  hollow  stone 
Sent  that  soft  and  tender  moan? 
He  lifted  his  head  and  he  looked  on  the  sea 
But  it  was  unrippled  as  glass  may  be. 
He  looked  on  tlie  long  grass,  but  it  waved  not  a  blade 
How  was  that  gentle  sound  conveyed? 
He  looked  to  the  banners — each  flag  lay  still 
So  did  the  leaves  on  Cithaeron's  hill. 
And  he  felt  not  a  breath  come  over  his  cheek: 

What  did  that  sudden  sound  bespeak? 
He  turned  to  the  left  —  is  he  sure  of  sight? 
There  sat  a  lady  youthful  and  bright." 

After  Byron  had  published  the  above  he  was  present 

in  a  literary  circle  where  Christabel  was  read  aloud  from 

the  MSS,,  for  though  written  many  years  previously,  it 

had  never  been  in  print.     Byron  was  of  course  delighted 

with  the  poem,  but  his  pleasure  was  changed  to  surprise 

as  he  lieard  the  following  lines  : 

"The  night  is  chill,  tlie  forest  bare, 
Is  it  the  wind  that  moaneth  bleak? 
There  is  not  wind  enough  in  the  air 


Plagiarism.  151 

To  move  away  the  ringlet  curl 

From  the  lovely  lady's  cheek. 

There  is  not  wind  enough  to  twirl 

The  one  red  leaf — tiie  last  of  its  clan, 

That  dances  as  often  as  dance  it  can 

Hanging  so  light  and  hanging  so  high 

On  the  topmost  twig  that  looks  up  at  the  sky." 

JByroii  says  in  a  note  on  tliis  subject  "  the  original  idea 
undoubtedly  pertains  to  Mr.  Coleridge  whose  poem  has 
been  composed  more  than  fourteen  years."  He  also  ex- 
presses his  hope  that  Coleridge  would  no  longer  delay  its 
publication.  Perhaps  the  reason  of  this  delay  was  Cole- 
ridge's expectation  of  finishing  it  but  his  procrastination 
was  such  that  he  left  it  the  most  beautiful  fragment  in 
our  language. 

Bykon  and  Ariosto, 

The  description  of  a  shipwreck  given  in  one  of  Byron's 
latest  poems  is  admired  at  least  as  a  teri-ific  scene,  and  the 
author  of  the  Real  Lord  Byron  says  it  was  due  to  a  de- 
structive wreck  which  occurred  on  the  English  coast. 
Byron,  however,  wrote  his  sliipwreck  while  in  Italy  years 
after  the  above-mentioned  calamity,  and  as  he  was  an 
admirer  of  Ariosto,  I  think  he  unintentionally  repeated 
the  Italian  poet.  I  give  both  so  that  the  reader  may 
form  his  own  opinion.  The  first  is  from  an  old  transla- 
tion of  Orlando  Furioso : 

"T'was  lamentable  then  to  heare  the  cries, 

Of  companies  of  every  sort  confused: 
In  vain  to  heaven  they  lift  up  their  hands  and  eyes, 

And  make  late  vows  such  as  in  such  case  is  used; 
For  over  them  the  wrathful  sea  doth  rise, 

As  though  to  give  them  care  they  had  refused ; 
And  make  them  hold  their  peace  by  hard  constraint, 
And  stopped  the  passage  whence  comes  out  the  plaint." 

BjTon's  description  : 

"Then  rose  from  sea  to  sky  the  wild  farewell! 

Then  shrieked  the  timid,  and  stood  still  the  brave; 
Then  some  leaped  overboard  with  dreadful  yell, 
As  eager  to  anticipate  their  grave ; 


152  Our  Book. 

Aud  the  sea  yawned  round  her  like  a  hell, 

And  down  she  sucked  with  her  the  wliirling  wave. 
Like  one  who  grapples  with  liis  enemy, 
And  strives  to  strangle  him  before  he  die." 

Macaui.ay  and  IL  K.  White. 
Macanlay's  sketch  of  tlie  possibilities  of  the  future  is 
probably  the  best  known  of  all  his  utterances,  and  cer- 
tainly there  is  no  picture  of  desolation  more  impressive 
tlian  the  New  Zealander  standing  in  a  vast  solitude  on  a 
broken  arch  of  London  bridge,  to  sketch  tlie  ruins  of  St. 
Paul's  church.  One  finds  the  same  ideaj  however,  in  a 
poem  written  by  Henry  Kirke  White  forty  years  previ- 
ously, as  may  be  seen  by  the  following  quotation  : 

"Where  now  is  Britain?     "Where  her  laurelled  names 
Her  palaces  and  halls?     Dashed  in  the  dust 

O'er  her  marts 
Her  crowded  ports  broods  silence ;  and  the  cry 
Of  the  low  curlew  and  the  pensive  dasli 
Of  distant  billows  breaks  alone  tiie  void; 
Even  as  the  savage  sits  upon  the  stone 
That  marks  where  stood  her  capitol  and  hears 
The  bittern  booming  in  the  weeds  he  shrinks 
From  the  dismaying  solitude.'' 

Bryant  and  Others. 
In  writing  Tbanatopsis  Bryant  made  no  claim  to  origi- 
nality, for  in  so  old  a  theme  it  were  impossible.  There 
is,  however,  a  very  striking  parallel  between  one  portion 
of  it  and  the  utterance  of  Claudio  in  Measure  for  Meas- 
ure.    Bryant  writes  thus : 

'' Earth  that  nourished  thee  shall  claim 

Thy  growth  to  be  resolved  to  earth  again; 
And  lost  each  human  trace,  surrendering  up 
Thine  individual  being  shalt  thou  go 
To  mix  forever  with  the  elements, 
To  be  a  I)rother  to  the  insensible  rock, 
And  to  the  sluggish  clod." 

Shakespeare  renders  the  san)e  idea  more  forcibly  in  the 

above  mentioned  play : 

"  Ay,  but  to  die  and  go  we  know  not  where; 
To  lie  in  cold  alistraction  and  to  rot, 


Plagiarism.  153 

This  seusiblc  warm  motiou  to  become 
A  kneaded  clod." 

Bryant's  fine  address  to  Lincoln  reminds  one  of  Wal- 
ler's enlogy  on  Cromwell.  In  the  first  we  have  the 
apostrophe : 

"  O  strong  to  strike  and  swift  to  spare," 

while  Waller  gives  the  same  idea  in  the  following  less 

finished  rhyme  : 

"  To  pardon  willing  and  to  punish  loath 
You  strike  with  one  hand  but  you  heal  with  both." 

Coming  down  to  Whittier,  how  much  his  Snow  Bound 
reminds  one  of  Burns'  Cottager's  Saturday  Night,  and 
yet  this  resemblance  is  of  course  unintentional.  The 
reader  however,  may  think  that  enough  has  been  said  on 
this  subject,  which  indeed  ranges  through  the  whole  field 
of  literature.  Even  Yirgil  in  some  things  reproduces  the 
Greek  poets,  and  they  in  turn  may  be  indebted  to  forgot- 
ten writers.  Horace  tells  us  tliere  ^vere  brave  men  before 
Agamemnon,  and  if  so,  then  w^ere  no  doubt  poets  before 
Homer,  some  of  whose  utterances  may  have  been  re-pro- 
duced in  the  Iliad. 

Imaginary  Plagiarism. 

While  speaking  on  this  subject  allusion  may  be  made 

to  the  notions  uttered    by  Wordsworth.     Tom  Moore, 

who  met  the  philosophic  poet  in  London  at  a  time  when 

each  had  won  distinction,  says  in  his  diary. 

"  Wordsworth  spoke  of  Byron's  plagiarisms  from  him ;  the 
whole  third  canto  of  Childe  Harold  founded  on  his  style  and  sen- 
timents. The  feeling  of  natural  ob^'ects  which  is  there  expressed 
not  caught  by  B.  from  nature  herself,  but  from  him  (Words- 
worth) and  spoiled  in  the  transition.  Tintern  Abbey  is  the  source 
of  all  —  from  which  poem  the  celebrated  passage  about  Solitude 
in  the  first  canto  of  Childe  Harold  is  taken,  with  this  difference, 
that  what  is  naturally  expressed  by  him  has  been  worked  by 
Byron   into   a   labored   and   antithetical   sort    of    declamation." 

Reader,  does  not  this  sound  like  jealousy  ? 
20 


154  Our  Book. 

Speaking  of  plagiarism,  it  is  interesting  to  see  how 
Franklin  was  falsely  subjected  to  this  charge.  He  had 
been  deeply  impressed  by  an  oriental  tale  which  had  such 
a  scriptural  tone  that  he  occasionally  read  it  aloud  from 
the  Bible,  among  his  friends,  to  see  whether  they  would 
detect  the  diflEerence.  Eventually  he  gave  away  a  copy 
(in  England),  and  it  soon  afterward  appeared  in  print  as 
"  communicated  by  Benjamin  Franklin."  An  edition  of 
his  works  was  published  in  London  just  before  the  revo- 
lution and  this  tale  was  inserted,  evidently  without  his 
knowledge.  He  was  thus  made  to  appear  as  its  author, 
and  a  few  years  after  his  death  an  English  critic  accused 
him  of  stealing  it  from  Jeremy  Taylor,  who  obtained  it 
from  an  ancient  oriental  work.  The  tale  referred  to  is 
the  "  Parable  on  Persecution,"  and  its  lesson  is  certainly 
valuable,  whatever  be  its  origin. 

Remarkable  Imitations. 
This  allusioji  to  parallel  passages  leads  to  a  brief  refer- 
ence to  that  artificial  resemblance  which  had  become  so 
frequent  a  feature  in  modern  literature.  The  most  re- 
markable instance  is  found  in  Rejected  Addresses  by 
Horace  and  James  Smith,  ^diich  still  retain  their  interest 
at  the  lajDSG  of  seventy  years.  The  history  of  the  volume 
maybe  briefly  given  as  follows:  Drury  Lane  theatre, 
having  been  destroyed  by  fire  in  1S12,  was  rebuilt,  and 
the  managing  committee  offered  a  prize  for  the  best 
opening  address.  The  Smiths  were  a  pair  of  legal  and 
literary  brothers  who  had  published  some  good  things, 
and  who  also  had  a  fair  professional  practice.  One  of 
them  offered  an  address  which  was  rejected,  and  this  led 
the  brothers  to  write  a  series  of  similar  poems,  imitating 
the  style  of  Scott,  Sonthey,  Tom  Moore,  Byron,  Cole- 
ridge, Wordsworth  and  other  leading  poets.     The  whole 


Plagiarism,  166 

work  was  done  in  six  weeks,  and  then  tlie  book  was 
offered  in  turn  to  several  publishers,  each  of  whom  de- 
clined it.  At  last  an  obscure  dealer  made  the  venture, 
and  it  proved  an  extraordinary  success.  The  literary 
world  was  astonished  by  the  felicity  in  which  the  best 
authors  were  taken  off,  for  Byron  and  Scott  are  unpar- 
alleled imitations.  The  financial  success  was  of  corre- 
sponding value,  and  the  publisher  paid  the  authors  £1,000 
or  $5,000  for  one-half  the  copyright.  It  may  be  added 
that  the  names  of  the  travestied  authors  were  only  given 
in  initial  —  W.  S.  standing  for  Walter  Scott,  "W.  W.  for 
Wordsworth,  K.  S.  for  Southey  —  and  in  this  manner  a 
score  of  authors  were  served  up  in  the  most  unexpected 
manner. 

The  travesty  of  Scott  was  accepted  by  himself  as  a 
clever  hit,  and  led  to  an  acquaintance  wjiich  became  true 
friendship.  When  Scott  read  it  he  said  pleasantly, 
"Well,  I  must  certainly  have  written  those  verses.  If  not 
they  are  a  capital  burlesque  on  the  Battle  of  Flodden  in 
Marmion."  Wordsworth  fared  the  worst,  and  the 
Smiths  afterward  felt  that  they  had  been  too  severe,  but 
the  poet  took  it  in  good  nature,  which  is  always  the  best 
way  of  meeting  a  joke.  It  should  be  added  that  the 
Drury  Lane  committee  rejected  all  the  offerings  and 
asked  Byron  to  furnish  them  with  an  opening  address, 
which  was  spoken  on  the  occasion. 

Father  Prodt's  Literary  Joke. 
Rejected  Addresses  is  the  best  literary  joke  the  world 
has  ever  sec'n,  but  the  talent  and  the  ingenuity  displayed 
by  Francis  Mahony  in  a  similar  vein  certainly  entitles 
him  to  the  very  next  rank.  As  a  linguist,  however,  he 
awakens  still  greater  admiration,  for  lie  displays  consum- 
mate mastery,  not  only  over  our  own  language,  but  also 


156  OuK  Book. 

over  Latin,  French  and  Greek.  Maliony  was  better  known 
in  tlie  literary  world  as  Father  Prout,  whose  Reliques  were 
collected  from  the  periodicals  in  which  they  first  appeared, 
and  were  honored  by  republication  in  book  form,  and 
with  appropriate  ilkistrations.  Some  years  ago  one  of  my 
friends,  a  self-educated  man  of  more  than  ordinary  intel- 
ligence, while  speaking  of  Tora  Moore,  uttered  a  very 
earnest  regret  that  so  brilliant  a  poet  should  be  merely  a 
plagiarist.  On  my  expressing  surprise  at  this  statement, 
he  proceeded  to  explain  by  the  assertion  that  he  had  a 
book  which  proved  that  some  of  Moore's  best  things  were 
merely  translations  from  Greek,  Latin  and  French  au- 
thors. I  soon  learned  that  the  book  referred  to  was 
Father  Prout's  Reliques,  and  I  was  obliged  to  inform  my 
friend  that  he  was  simply  the  dupe  of  Mahony's  learning 
and  skill.  In  other  words,  Father  Prout  puts  Moore's 
poetry  with  such  perfect  versification  into  the  above- 
mentioned  languages,  that  it  might  be  difficult  to  decide 
which  was  M^-itten  first.  He  then  calls  this  alleged  pla- 
giarism the  Pogueries  of  Tom  Moore,  and  says  : 

"  How  often  he  plagued  me  to  supply  him  with  the  original  songs 
I  had  picked  up  in  France,  and  he  has  transferred  these  foreign 
inventions  into  tlie  Irisli  Melodies.  Some  of  the  songs  he  would 
turn  upside  down,  and  others  he  would  disguise  in  various  shapes; 
but  he  would  still  worry  me  to  supply  him  with  the  productions 
of  the  Gallic  muse,  '  for  d'ye  see  old  Prout,'  the  rogue  would  say: 

'  The  best  of  all  waye 

To  lengthen  our  lays 

Is  to  steal  a  few  thoughts  from  the  French,  my  dear.' 

"  It  would  be  easy  to  point  out  detached  fragments  and  stray  met- 
aphors which  he  has  scattered  here  and  there  in  such  gay  confus- 
ion, that  every  page  contains  plagiarism  enough  to  iiang  him ;  but, 
would  you  believe  it,  if  you  had  not  learned  it  from  old  Prout, 
that  the  very  opening  song  of  the  collection  "  Go  where  glory 
waits  thee,'  is  but  a  literal  and  servile  translation  of  an  old  French 
ditty  which  is  among  my  papers.  I  believe  it  to  have  been  writ- 
ten by  the  Comptesse  de  Cliateaubriand,  born  in  1491.  She  was 
the  favorite  of  Francis  I,  who,  however,  soon  abandoned  her, 
and,  indeed,  these  linos  appear  to  anticipate  his  iutidelity.  They 
were  written  before  the  battle  of  Pavia. 


PLAGTAKISM. 


157 


CHANSON 

de  la  Comftt&se  de  Chateaubriand 
a  Francois  I. 

Va  ou  la  gloire  t'invite; 
Et  quand  d'orgueil  palpite 

Ce  cauir,  qu'il  pense  a  moi ! 
Quand  Teloge  enflamme 
'J'oute  I'ardeur  dc  ton  ame, 

Pense  encore  a  moi! 
Aiitres  charmes  peut-etre 
Tu  voLidras  connaitre, 
Autre  amour  en  maitre 

Reguera  sur  toi; 
Mais  quand  ta  levre  presse 
Celle  qui  te  caresse, 

Mechant,  pense  a  moil 

Quand  au  soir  tu  erres 
Sous  I'astre  des  bcrgeres, 

Pense  aux  doux  instans 
Lorsque  cette  etoile, 
Qu'un  beau  ciel  devoile, 

Guida  deux  amans! 
Quand  la  fleur,  symbole 
D'ete  qui  s'euvole, 
Penclie  sa  tete  molle, — 

S'exbalant  a  Fair, 
Pense  a  la  guirlande, 
De  ta  mie  I'offrande  — 

Don  qui  fut  si  cher ! 

Quand  la  feuille  d'automme 
Sons  tes  pas  resonne, 

Pense  alors  a  moi ! 
Quand  de  la  famille 
L'antique  foyer  brille, 

Pense  encore  Ji  moil 
Et  si  de  la  chanteuse 
La  voix  melodieuse 
Berce  ton  ame  heureuse 

Et  ravit  tes  sens, 
Pense  a  I'air  que  cliante 
Pour  toi  ton  amante  — 

Taut  aimes  accens! 

Pense  alors  a  moi. 

"Any  one  who  bas  tbe  sligbtest  tincture  of  Frencb  literature 
must  recognize  the  simple  and  unsopbisticated  style  of  a  genuine 
love  song  in  tbe  above,  tlie  language  being  tbat  of  tbe  century  iu 
wbicb  Clement  Marot  and  Maitre  Adam  wrote  their  incomparable 


TOM  MOORE'S 

Translation  of  this  Song  in  the 
Irish  Melodies. 

Go  where  glory  waits  thee ; 
But  while  fame  elates  thee 

Ob,  still  remember  mc ! 
When  ilie  praise  thou  meete.st 
To  thine  ear  is  sweetest, 

Ob,  then  remember  me! 
Other  arms  may  press  thee, 
Dearer  friends  caress  thee  — 
All  the  joys  tbat  bless  thee 

Dearer  far  may  be  : 
But  when  friends  are  dearest, 
And  when  joys  are  nearest, 

Oh,  then  remember  me  1 

When  at  eve  thou  rovest 
By  the  star  tlioulovest, 

Ob,  then  remember  me! 
Think,  when  home  returning. 
Bright  we've  seen  it  burning, 

Oh,  then  remember  me ! 
Oft  as  summer  closes. 
When  thine  eye  reposes 
On  its  lingering  roses, 

Once  so  loved  by  thee, 
Think  of  her  who  wove  them— 
Her  who  made  thee  love  them, 

Oh,  then  remember  me ! 

When  around  thee  dying. 
Autumn  leaves  are  lying. 

Oh,  then  remember  me! 
And  at  night  when  gazing. 
On  the  gay  hearth  blazing. 

Oh,  still  remember  me! 
Then  should  music  stealing 
All  the  soul  of  feeling. 
To  thy  heart  appealing. 

Draw  one  tear  from  thee ; 
Then  let  memory  bring  thee 
Strains  I  used  to  sing  t])ee  — 

Oh,  then  remember  me ! 


158  OuK  Book. 

ballads,  find  containing  a  kindly  admixture  of  gentleness  and 
sentimental  delicacy,  which  no  one  but  a  '  ladye '  and  a  lovely 
heart  could  infuse  into  the  composition.  Moore  has  not  been  in- 
felicitous in  rendering  the  charms  of  the  wondrous  original  into 
English  lines  adapted  to  the  measure  and  tune  of  the  French. 
The  air  is  plaintive  and  exquisitely  beautiful ;  but  I  recommend 
it  to  be  tried  first  on  the  French  words  as  it  was  sung  by  the 
charming  lips  of  the  Countess  of  Chateaubriand  to  the  enraptured 
ear  of  the  gallant  Francis  I." 

Having  thus  given  Father  Prout's  opening  of  Lis  "ex- 
]iosnre ''  of  Moore's  rogueries  the  reader  may  desire  to 
see  tliose  additional  proofs  in  Latin  and  even  in  Greek 
but  lack  of  space  prevents  any  additional  extract.  Moore, 
however,  heartily  relished  the  joke  whicli  probably  will 
long  remain  unequaled. 

Paul  and  Ylrginta. 

Few  of  those  who  during  their  childhood  were  melted 
by  this  affecting  story  are  aware  that  its  author  (St.  Pierre) 
was  a  military  man,  and  that  its  origin  is  due  to  the  opera- 
tions of  war.  A  military  engineer  sent  from  Paris  to  the 
Mauritius  for  the  purpose  of  erecting  a  fort,  became 
famous,  not  by  his  professional  labors,  but  by  the  tale 
which  he  brought  home.  The  Mauritius  is  a  mere  dot 
on  the  map  and  its  insignificance  in  point  of  size  may  be 
infeiTed  from  the  fact  that  the  State  of  New  York  con- 
tains tliirty  counties  each  of  greater  area,  and  yet  what  a 
place  it  liokls  in  literature.  St.  Pierre  indeed  almost  ful- 
fills the  idea  of  "giving  an  airy  nothing  a  local  habitation 
and  a  name." 

While  the  origin  of  the  book  is  military,  its  appearance 
in  our  language  is  identified  with  scenes  of  bloodshed 
and  horror.  An  English  woman  (Mrs.  Helen  Williams) 
who  was  living  in  Paris  during  the  Reign  of  Terror  found 
relief  in  translating  St.  Pierre's  affecting  tale  which  soon 
afterward  was  published  in  London.  Mrs.  Williams'  state- 
ment, of  which  I  give  an  extract,  is  certainly  interesting: 


Gray  and  Goethe.  159 

The  following  translation  was  written  in  Paris  amid  all  tlie 
horrors  of  Robespierre's  tyranny.  During  that  gloomy  epoch,  it 
was  ditHcult  to  find  occupation  whicli  could  cheat  the  days  of 
calamity  of  their  weary  length.  Society  had  vanished,  and  writ- 
ing, and  even  reading,  was  encompassed  with  danger.  In  that 
situation  I  gave  myself  the  task  of  translating  Paul  and  Virginia, 
and  I  found  the  most  soothing  relief,  from  my  own  gloomy  reflec- 
tions in  the  enchanting  scenes  in  the  Mauritius. 

Gray  and  Goethe. 
Gray's  Elegy  is  a  household  word.  Reader,  can  you 
remember  3'onr  first  acquaintance  with  it?  1  cannot  re- 
member mine.  It  is  identified  witli  my  youthful  exist- 
ence, and  its  exquisite  pictures  are  among  the  gems  which 
I  shall  cherish  to  the  last.  One  of  the  finest  features  in 
Gray's  character  is  the  honor  whicli  he  paid  to  humanity 
in  its  humblest  condition.  His  description  of  the  life  of 
the  peasant  throws  a  charm  upon  privation  and  even  on 
poverty,  and  how  touching  is  that  appeal  uttered  in  behalf 
of  the  lowly : 

"  Let  not  ambition  mock  their  useful  toil, 
Tiieir  humble  joys  and  destiny  obscure; 
Nor  grandeur  hear  with  a  disdainful  smile 
The  sliort^nd  simple  annals  of  the  poor." 

At  that  time  men  of  genius  were  generally  seeking 
the  patronage  of  the  nobility.  The  patron  advanced 
money  liberally,  and  was  repaid  by  a  dedication.  Savage 
had  Lord  Tyrconnell,  and  even  Tom  Moore,  a  century 
later,  depended  on  Lord  Moira.  Gray,  however,  sought 
no  favor  of  this  kind.  On  the  other  hand,  he  expressed 
deep  sympathy  with  that  humiliation  of  genius  when 
forced  to  pursue  such  a  method.  I  once  asked  a  young 
friend  of  more  than  usual  perception  to  designate  the 
finest  verse  in  the  elegy.  The  reply,  which  was  as  fol- 
lows, would  no  doubt  have  pleased  the  poet  : 

"  The  struggling  pangs  of  conscious  truth  to  hide, 
To  quench  the  blushes  of  ingenuous  shame; 
And  heap  the  shrine  of  luxury  and  pride, 
With  incense  kindled  at  the  muses'  flame." 


160  Our  Book. 

In  that  day  for  an  author  to  espouse  the  cause  of  the 
poor  was  to  incur  the  risk  of  contempt.  Gray  not  only 
did  this,  but  portrays  himself  in  the  same  colors  in  that 
epitaph  which  so  appropriately  closes  the  elegy : 

"  He  gave  to  misery  —  't  was  all  he  had  —  a  tear. 
He  gained  of  heaven  —  't  was  all  he  asked  —  a  friend." 

Goethe  will  always  be  an  interesting  subject,  but  one 
of  his  most  beautiful  things  is  generally  overlooked  by 
lecturers  and  ci'itics.  I  refer  to  the  idea  of  the  eternal 
snnset  which  occurs  in  Faust.  Goethe  was  one  of  that 
favored  few  whose  genius  is  appreciated  during  life. 
Byron  never  met  him,  but  as  a  testimony  of  admiration 
he  dedicated  his  tragedy  of  Werner,  and  received  a  very 
appropriate  acknowledgment.  Byron  was  then  about  to 
make  his  voyage  to  Greece,  whence  he  never  returned 
alive,  and  he  wrote  to  Goethe  as  follows : 

"  I  am  going  to  Greece  to  see  if  T  can  be  of  any  use  there.  If 
ever  I  come  back,  I  will  pay  a  visit  to  Weimar  to  offer  the  sincere 
homage  of  one  of  the  many  millions  of  your  admirers.  " 

The  everlasting  sunset  was  often  suggested  to  me  as  I 
stood  on  Brooklyn  Heights — then  free  from  buildings  — 
and  saw  the  bay  and  its  islands  enveloped  in  all  the  gor- 
geous beauty  of  approaching  evening.  On  such  occasions 
I  could  exclaim  w^ith  the  poet :  "  See  how  the  green-girt 
cottages  shimmer  in  the  setting  sun  !  He  bends  and 
sinks.  Yonder  he  hurries  off  to  nourish  new  life !  O 
that  I  had  wings  to  follow  on  —  to  see  in  everlasting 
evening  beams  the  stilly  world  at  my  feet  —  every  height 
on  fire —  every  vale  in  repose!  The  rugged  mountains, 
with  their  rude  defiles  —  the  heavens  above  me  and  be- 
neath me  the  waves." 

Severn  and  Keats. 
The  erection  of  a  monument  of  mutual  honor  to  these 


Keats'  Death.  iGl 

men  in  tlie  English  cemetery  at  Home  is  a  very  interest- 
ing feature  in  the  history  of  genius.  But  httle  is  known 
of  Severn  except  that  he  was  an  artist.  His  kindness  to 
Keats,  however,  has  made  him  partner  of  the  poet's  fame, 
and  that  is  the  highest  reward  he  could  have  asked. 
During  the  present  aesthetic  craze,  Keats  is  nn justly 
claimed  as  belonging  to  this  class.  The  only  foundation 
for  this  claim,  liowever,  is  found  in  that  oft-quoted  lino, 
"  a  thing  of  heauty  is  a  joy  forever."  Keats  was  rather 
a  reviver  of  the  antique,  as  is  shown  by  the  very  name  of 
his  principal  work,  Endymion,  while  his  other  productions 
are  much  of  the  same  character.  lie  fell  in  love  with 
the  dreamy  beauty  of  classic  mythology,  and  endeavored 
to  graft  it  on  to  modern  poetry,  and  though  he  failed  in 
bis  attempt,  he  won  an  enduring  place  in  literature. 

Keats'  admiration  for  the  classics  was  like  Chatterton's 
mania  for  antique  English,  and  they  both  found  their  true 
element  in  the  mythic  past.  It  was  said  that  Keats  died 
of  the  effect  of  a  severe  critique.  His  health,  however, 
had  been  failing  for  several  years,  and  he  sailed  for  Italy 
in  company  with  Severn  but  never  returned.  Shelley 
was  his  ardent  admirer,  and  embalmed  his  memory  in 
Adonais,  which  is  the  finest  of  mortuary  poems. 

Byron  wrote  thus  to  Murray  :  "  Is  it  true  what  Shelley 
whites  me  that  poor  John  Keats  died  of  the  Quarterly 
Review?  I  am  very  sorry  for  it,  though  I  think  he  took 
the  M'l'ong  line  as  a  poet,  and  was  spoiled  by  versifying 
Tooke's  Pantheon  and  Lempriere's  classical  dictionary. 
I  know  by  experience  that  a  savage  review  is  hemlock  to 
a  suckling  author,  and  the  one  on  myself  knocked  me 
down,  but  I  got  up  again.  Instead  of  bursting  a  blood 
vessel  I  drank  three  bottles  of  claret  and  began  an  answer. 
I  would  not,  however,  be  the  author  of  the  homicidal 
article  for  all  the  honor  and  glory  of  the  world."  Byron 
21 


162  Odk  Boojc. 

with  all  his  sj'^mpathy  could  not  avoid  taking  a  humorous 
view  of  this  sad  case,  which  he  thus  presents: 

"John  Keats — wlio  was  killed  off  by  one  critique, 
Just  as  lie  really  promised  something  great, 
If  not  intelligible — without  Greek — 
Contrived  to  talk  about  the  Gods  of  late, 
Much  as  they  might  be  supposed  to  speak, 
Poor  fellow,  his  was  an  untoward  fate.'' 

It  is  however  far  better  for  his  fame  that  Keats  died 
in  Rome  since  this  identifies  him  with  the  eternal  cit3\ 
His  grave  is  one  of  the  shrines  of  genius  and  he  rests 
in  the  spot  of  whicli  he  said  it  is  so  beautiful  that  it 
ahnost  made  one  in  love  with  death  to  think  of  being 
buried  there.  A  few  montlis  afterward  tlie  heart  of 
his  friend  Shelley  was  laid  by  his  side.  How  strange 
it  seems  that  of  those  three  English  poets  who  were 
in  Italy  at  the  same  time  (Byron,  Shelley  and  Keats) 
not  one  should  return  to  his  native  land,  except  the 
former,  Avho,  however,  only  went  back  in  his  coffin. 

Of  this  trio  Byron  will  always  be  the  most  generally 
read  because  his  poetry  is  emotional,  while  Shelley  will 
be  the  least,  because  his  is  solely  intellectual.  Keats  holds 
a  place  between  them,  and  hence  has  his  share  of  readers. 
His  St.  Agnes  Eve  is  a  series  of  wonderful  pictures,  each 
finished  with  exquisite  touch,  but  the  most  powerful  of 
all  his  appeals  to  the  emotional  nature  is  found  in  a  couple 
of  stanzas  which  illustrate  those  painful  changes  whicli 
time  inflicts  upon  the  tender  and  sensitive  heart. 

The  closing  lines  are  as  follows: 

"Oh,  would  'twere  so  with  many 
A  gentle  girl  and  boy; 
But  was  there  ever  any  . 
Writhed  not  at  passed  joy? 

"To  know  a  change  and  feel  it, 

Where  there  is  naught  to  heal  it. 
Nor  numbed  sense  to  steel  it, 
Was  never  said  in  rhyme." 


Keats  and  Drake.  163 

While  speaking  of  Keats,  let  ns  look  at  the  striking 
parallel  which  holds  between  him  and  Joseph  Rodman 
Drake.  On  the  Tth  of  August.  1795,  the  latter  was  born 
in  New  York,  and  on  the  29th  of  the  following  October 
Keats  was  born  in  London.  When  grown  to  adolescence 
both  studied  medicine,  and  Drake  was  admitted  to  prac- 
tice. On  the  21st  of  September,  1820,  the  latter  died  in 
New  York  of  consumption,  and  on  the  21st  of  February, 
1821,  just  six  months  afterward,  Keats  died  at  Rome  of 
the  same  disease.  Ilis  entire  life  was  three  months  longer 
than  that  of  Drake. 

These  young  and  ill-fated  contemporaries  never  heard 
of  each  other.  Drake's  best  poetry  was  published  only  a 
year  before  his  death,  and  the  same  may  be  said  of  Keats. 
The  latter  displays  more  genius  than  Drake,  but  both  will 
live  in  the  chronicles  of  literature.  The  death  of  each 
inspired  the  highest  order  of  elegiac  poetry.  Halleck's 
verses  on  Drake,  beginning  "  Green  be  the  turf  above 
thee,"  and  Shelley's  Adonais  are  among  the  best  of 
either  author's  productions,  and  both  are  rich  in  pathos. 

Coleridge. 

Charles  Lamb,  his  school-day  friend,  apostrophises  him 

thus  in  after  life  : 

"Come  back  unto  memory  like  as  thou  wert  in  the  day  spring 
of  thy  fancies,  with  hope  like  a  fiery  column  before  thee — the 
dark  pillar  not  yet  turned  —  Samuel  Taylor  Coleridge  —  logician 
—  metaphysician,  bard !  How  have  I  seen  the  casual  passer 
through  the  cloister  stand  still,  entranced  with  admiration  (while 
he  weighed  the  disproportion  between  the  speech  and  the  garb)  to 
hear  thee  unfold  in  thy  deep  and  sweet  intonations  the  mysteries 
of  Jamblicus  or  Elotinus,  or  reciting  Homer  or  Pindar,  while  the 
walls  re-echoed  the  accents  of  the  inspired  charity  boy," 

How  strange  it  seems  that  this  wonderful  genius  should 
have  been  addressed  by  Lamb  in  his  letters,  as  "  Dear 
Col." 

The  first  man  who  undertook  to  make  the  lecture  plat- 


164  OuK  Book. 

form  profitable  in  England  was  Coleridge,  and  he  would 
have  succeeded  had  it  not  been  for  his  inveterate  procras- 
tination. Being  a  born  genius,  ho  did  not  consider  him- 
self amenable  to  any  of  the  ordinary  rules  of  society,  and 
his  indifference  to  appointments  soon  destroyed  public 
confidence.  As  a  conversationist  Coleridge  held  a  dis- 
tinction equal  to  that  of  Gough  in  oratory.  By  this  I 
mean  to  say  that  neither  Britain  nor  America  ever  beheld 
his  equal.  When  he  spoke  all  others  were  hushed  in 
admiration,  and  had  he  simply  talked  to  an  audience  he 
would  have  not  lacked  for  hearers.  He  was,  however,  so 
forgetful  of  his  appointments  that  it  destroyed  his  chance 
of  success,  and  this  happened  once  in  Bristol  and  twice  in 
London.  Prof.  Wilson,  of  Edinburgh,  said  of  Coleridge : 
"  There  is  nothing  more  wonderful  than  the  facile  majesty 
of  his  world  of  imagery,  which  starts  up  before  us  like 
the  palace  of  Aladdin.  He  ascends  to  the  sublimest 
truths  by  a  winding  track  of  sparkling  glory,  which  can 
only  be  described  in  his  own  language."  Dibdin  says 
that  at  one  focial  entertainment  he  "heard  Coleridge 
hold  the  group  spellbound  for  nearly  two  hours."  Such 
was  the  founder  of  the  lecture  system  in  England,  and 
he  himself  is  the  richest  theme  for  a  lecture  to  be  found 
in  our  language. 

Coleridge's  Crime. 

Coleridge  was  the  chief  literary  mendicant  of  the  age. 
He  was  a  charity  scholar  during  boyhood,  and  his  univer- 
sity life  was  of  the  same  nature.  During  his  subsequent 
career  he  was  considered  a  literarj'-  beggar  by  those  who 
knew  him  best  —  this  being  due  to  his  slavery  to  the 
opium  appetite.  In  reality  the  greatest  poetic  genius  of 
the  nineteenth  century  was  what  in  common  parlance  is 
called  "  a  dead  beat."     He  was  often  a  vagrant,  leaving 


AuTOBIOGKArilY.  165 

Lis  wife  and  children  to  be  supported  by  his  brother-in- 
law  Southey,  who,  tliough  far  less  gifted,  was  an  indus- 
trious plodder,  and  tlms  made  literature  profitable. 
Coleridge  was  conscious  of  the  crime  he  committed  by 
yielding  to  his  appetite,  and  his  mental  sufferings  were 
often  beyond  the  power  of  language.  When  Cottle 
wrote  his  description  of  Coleridge's  condition  and  sent  it 
to  John  Foster,  the  latter  replied  thus  :  "  It  is  as  melan- 
choly an  exhibition  as  I  ever  contemplated.  Why  was 
such  a  sad  phenomenon  to  come  in  sight  on  earth  ?  Was 
it  to  abase  the  pride  of  human  intellect  and  genius  ? " 
Cottle's  picture  of  the  poet,  then  only  forty-two,  includes 
the  wild  eye,  the  sallow  countenance,  the  tottering  step 
and  the  trembling  hand.  At  this  time  Coleridge  wrote 
to  Cottle  that  he  wished  to  be  placed  in  an  asylum.  No 
wonder  indeed,  since  Cottle  says  that  "  opium  had  so 
completely  subdued  his  will  that  he  seemed  carried  away 
without  resistance,  as  by  an  overwhelming  flood."  Cot- 
tle's sketch  of  Coleridge  was  published  as  a  warning  to 
others  and  his  sense  of  dut}'  triumphed  over  friendship. 
As  an  illustration  of  the  pauperism  to  which  this  bondage 
had  reduced  the  author,  it  may  be  said  that  having  aban- 
doned his  family  to  Southey's  care,  and  having  no  home, 
he  accepted,  at  the  above-mentioned  age,  the  invitation  of 
Dr.  Gilman,  with  whom  he  remained  till  his  miserable 
life  terminated,  nineteen  years  afterward.  Dr.  Gilman 
was  an  admirer  of  his  genius,  and  the  name  of  Coleridge 
was  no  doubt  advantageous  as  an  addition  to  professional 
dignity. 

Adtobiogkapuy. 

As  a  feature  in  literary  entertainment  autobiography 
has  a  long  admitted  value  and  almost  every  profession 
has  been  illustrated.  Men  love  to  tell  what  they  have 
done,  and  this  led  Ca3sar  to  write  the  history  of  the  Gal- 


166  Our  Book. 

lie  war  in  which,  however,  he  judiciously  speaks  of  him- 
self in  the  third  person.  Turning  from  war  to  religion 
the  earliest  work  of  the  kind  is  Augustin's  Confessions, 
which  have  survived  their  author  1,400  years.  Bunyan's 
Grace  Abounding  is  another  remarkable  self- portrayal, 
and  to  these  may  be  added  John  J^ewton's  personal  nar- 
rative, also  the  Force  of  Truth  by  the  commentator  Scott, 
which  gives  a  sketch  of  his  profound  experience. 

Tlie  three  most  important  literary  biographies  are 
Boswell's  Johnson,  Lockiiart's  Scott,  and  the  Life  and 
Letters  of  Washington  Irving  by  his  nephew,  Pierre  M. 
Irving.  The  first  gives  a  view  of  literary  society  in  Lon- 
don from  the  days  of  Pope  almost  to  the  close  of  the 
eighteenth  century.  Tlie  second  includes  Edinburgh 
and  London,  and  gathers  around  the  great  master  that 
array  of  lesser  lights  which  give  such  additional  interest 
to  the  theme,  while  the  third  combines  British  and 
American  literature,  and  shows  the  first  permanent  hold 
which  the  latter  gained  on  the  former,  while  it  details 
those  early  struggles  through  which  the  first  great 
American  author  reached  success. 

Dka]viatic  Autobiographt. 
Actors  when  forced  into  retirement,  love  to  repeat 
their  triumphs.  Hence  the  drama  has  an  unusual  num- 
ber of  autobiographers,  such  as  Colley  Gibber,  Mrs. 
Bellamy,  Mrs.  Inchbald,  Grimaldi,  Mrs.  Anna  Gora 
Mo  watt  and  the  London  manager  Alfred  Bunn.  Ma- 
cready's  personal  memoirs,  however,  will  always  hold 
pre'cedence,  not  only  on  account  of  his  genius,  but  also 
because  of  the  honesty  with  which  he  exposes  his  own 
weakness  and  faults.  Those  who  knew  the  irritability 
which  marked  this  gifted  tragedian  will  see  it  often  made 
the  subject  of  regret  in  his  diary,  especially  when  it  led 


Autobiography.  167 

Jiim  under  a  sudden  impulse  of  wrath  to  strike  Manager 
Bunn  —  an  assault  which  not  onlj  cost  him  £150  (equal 
to  $750),  but  also  an  immense  amount  of  vexation. 
Macready  also  gives  one  an  interesting  view  of  his  court- 
ship and  marriage,  and  then  his  emotions  on  retiring  from 
the  stage  are  solemn  and  grand. 

Literary  Autobiographies. 
Literary  people  live  such  quiet  lives  that  they  can 
hardly  expect  to  interest  the  public  and  yet  they  have 
produced  some  very  readable  books  of  this  kind.  De 
Quincey  made  the  attempt  which  contains  some  fascinat- 
ing descriptions  of  early  scenes,  but  it  does  not  extend  to 
that  part  of  his  life  in  which  the  public  is  most  deeply  in- 
terested—  the  yielding  to  the  opium  habit.  His  "Con- 
fessions," however,  are  really  an  autobiography  —  the 
most  fearful  one  indeed  in  the  whole  range  of  sensational 
literature.  Madame  D'Arblay,  author  of  Evelina,  pub- 
lished her  memoirs  after  reaching  fourscore,  and  they 
present  some  interesting  scenes  in  which  Johnson  occa- 
sionally appears.  Johnson  himself  attempted  a  similar 
effort  which  unfortunately  never  extended  over  more  than 
a  few  pages,  but  even  these  are  quaintly  interesting,  and 
the  following  extract  is  really  curious : 

"In  Lent  I  was  taken  to  London  to  be  touched  for  the  evil 
(scrofula)  by  Queen  Anne.  I  remember  a  boy  crying  at  the  palace 
when  I  went  to  be  touched.  My  mother  bought  me  a  speckled 
linen  frock  which  afterward  was  called  the  London  frock.  She 
also  bought  two  teaspoons  and  till  my  manliood  she  never  had 
any  more." 

The  above  is  the  latest  record  of  "  touching,"  bflt  in 
earlier  days  it  was  supposed  that  the  royal  touch  was 
highly  efficacious,  and  this  is  the  reason  the  scrofula  was 
so  generally  called  the  "  king's  evil."  Johnson,  in  refer- 
ring to  the  queen,  said  he  had  "  a  confused  but  solemn 


1G8  Our  Book. 

recollection  of  a  lady  in  diamonds  and  a  long  black  hood." 
What  a  kind  hearted  monarch.  Gibbon,  at  the  age  of 
fifty-three,  wrote  an  elaborate  autobiography,  which  is 
one  of  the  most  delightful  books  of  the  kind.  He  ex- 
pected to  live  to  old  age,  but  died  suddenlj^  two  years 
after  finishing  his  personal  narrative. 

Walter  Scott  began  an  autobiography,  but  did  not  con- 
tinue it  through  his  most  active  scenes.  His  diary,  how- 
ever is  of  the  same  nature,  and  gives  impressive  views  of 
his  greatness  and  his  misfortunes.  Charlotte  Elizabeth 
Tonna,  who  was  much  in  vogue  among  religious  readers 
a  quarter  of  a  century  ago,  gave  her  autobiography  the 
title  of  Personal  Recollections,  and  it  was  for  a  while  very 
popular. 

Byron  and  Moore. 

Byron  also  had  an  autobiographical  turn,  as  may  be 
seen  from  his  fragments  which  allude  to  personal  history. 
Among  these  is  Extracts  from  a  Journal,  also  Detached 
Thoughts  which  appear  to  be  the  true  utterance  of  his 
heart.  The  powder  with  which  the  details  of  life  attracted 
Byron  shows  that  he  would  have  been  an  excellent  autobi- 
ographer  —  though  of  course  his  views  would  have  been 
discolored  by  prejudice.  He  actually  wrote  his  memoirs 
and  placed  the  manliscript  in  the  hands  of  Moore,  his 
most  intimate  friend,  wath  privilege  of  publication  after 
death.  Moore  sold  the  manuscript  to  Murray  for  a  sum 
equal  to  $10,000,  but  after  Byron's  death  his  friends  ob- 
jected to  the  publication  and  refunded  the  money.  The 
manuscript  was  then  burned.  The  only  American  who 
ever  read  this  memoir  was  Irving,  to  whom  Moore  con- 
fided it  as  a  matter  of  friendship. 

Tom  Moore's  journal  during  the  most  active  part  of 
his  life  was  published  by  his  literary  executor,  and  is  re- 
markable for  its  fulness  of  detail.     It  covers  twenty-eight 


Autobiography.  1C9 

years,  and  one  cannot  but  be  surprised  at  the  minute  nar- 
ration of  men  and  also  of  opinions,  conversations  and  in- 
cidents. It  introduces  the  reader  to  the  literati  of  that 
day  in  something  of  the  Boswell  style.  In  addition  to 
this  however,  the  poet  began  a  personal  narrative  which 
he  brought  down  to  his  twenty-first  year,  at  which  time 
he  entered  society,  hut  unfortunately  it  was  discontinued. 
Moore's  Journal  closes  sadly.  He  was  then  sixty-seven 
and  six  years  afterw^ard  he  was  laid  in  the  grave. 

Public  Men. 

Thurlow  Weed's  autobiography  like  the  personal  rec- 
ords of  Thomas  II.  Benton  and  James  G.  Blaine  illustrate 
public  affairs,  and  John  Quincy  Adams  kept  an  ample 
diary  during  all  his  public  life  which  is  now  found  of 
much  value  as  a  work  of  reference.  In  England  Horace 
Walpole,  and  also  Wraxall,  preserved  personal  and  public 
records,  which  are  now  read  with  interest  by  all  who  de- 
sire to  study  the  history  of  the  times.  Franklin's  auto- 
biography is  highly  instructive,  and  should  be  generally 
read  by  the  young  because  of  its  lessons  of  thrift.  All 
who  read  it  must  regret  its  brevity.  Greeley's  KecoUectious 
of  a  Busy  Life  gives  a  thrilling  picture  of  that  long  strug- 
gle through  which  his  character  was  perfected  and  his 
mighty  work  accomplished. 

The  most  important  work  of  this  kind,  as  well  as  the 
most  widely  circulated,  is  General  Grant's  personal 
memoirs.  They  will  never  be  paralleled.  IIow  fortunate 
that  the  hero's  life  was  spared  until  he  had  told  the  un- 
varnished tale  of  his  wonderful  achievements,  and  how 
impressive  is  the  simple  and  unassuming  utterance,  "I 
commanded  the  whole  of  the  mighty  host  engaged  on  the 
victorious  side."  It  is  this  which  gives  such  grandeur  to 
his  memorable  utterance,  "LET  US  HAVE  PEACE." 


170  OuK  Book. 

The  earliest  autobiograpliy  written  in  our  language  is 
that  of  Lord  Herbert,  who  died  in  1648,  being  then  sixt}'- 
seven.  He  was  a  prominent  man  both  in  court  and  camp, 
and  held  several  important  stations  in  which  he  won  high 
honor.  His  latter  daj's  were  devoted  to  the  preparation 
of  his  memoirs,  which  he  left  for  posthumous  publication. 

The  civil  wars  however  prevented  this.  Charles  I  was 
beheaded  the  following  year,  and  then  came  a  series  of 
national  changes  which  impaired  the  progress  of  litera- 
ture, and  Plerbert's  MSS.  lay  in  neglect.  A  century 
passed  by  and  yet  the  author's  plan  had  not  been  carried 
out.  At  last  Horace  Wal pole's  attention  was  called  to 
the  work.  He  was  a  man  of  wealth,  and  being  a  pro- 
fessed virtuoso  in  literature  and  art,  had  established  a, 
private  printing  press  at  his  residence  —  where  he  printed 
Herbert's  memoii's  one  hundred  and  sixteen  years  after 
the  death  of  their  author. 

Criminal  Autobiography. 

The  tendency  of  bad  men  to  glory  in  evil  deeds  is  too 
common  to  attract  special  notice,  but  there  is  one  instance 
which  holds  distinction  from  its  combination  of  learning 
and  general  ability,  both  of  mind  and  body,  with  a  strange 
crookedness  which  perverted  all  his  gifts  to  evil.  This  is 
found  in  the  autobiography  of  Stephen  Burroughs,  in 
which  the  details  of  a  bad  life  are  given  in  so  racy  a 
manner  that  it  occasions  amusement  rather  than  censure. 
In  fact  the  reader  might  imagine  it  to  be  a  fiction  and  I 
really  had  some  idea  of  this  kind  but  it  was  effectually 
removed  by  the  following  incident :  While  looking 
through  a  collection  of  rare  books  I  found  an  old  copy  of 
the  life  of  Stephen  Burroughs,  on  the  fly  leaf  of  which 
was  pasted  aii  autograph  letter  written  by  Burroughs  him- 
self and  dated  in  some  jail  where  he  was  held  for  crime. 


Adtodtoorapmy.  1'71 

It  is  said  that  Burroughs  reformed  in  the  latter  part  of 
his  life  and  became  a  useful  member  of  societ}'.  lie  was 
a  native  of  New  England  but  died  in  Canada. 

Another  autobiography  identified  with  fraud  is  that 
written  by  the  literary  impostor  who  called  himself  George 
Psalmanazar,  but  who  eventually  confessed  that  it  was 
only  an  assumed  name.  The  book  is  by  no  means  inter- 
esting and  indeed  its  only  importance  is  found  in  its 
coimection  with  that  history  of  Formosa  which  was  the 
great  literary  fraud  of  its  day.  It  is  imbued  with  repent- 
ance for  his  imposture  and  this  leads  him  to  withhold 
both  his  name  and  nationality.  He  admits  however,  tliat 
he  was  an  opium  eater  and  may  be  mentioned  as  the  first 
instance  of  the  kind  in  the  literary  record. 

Tliis  book   is  entitled  "  Memoirs  of ,  commonly 

known  as  George  Psalmanazar  —  a  reputed  native  of 
Formosa.  Printed  for  the  Executrix  176-i."  He  left  it 
to  the  woman  with  whom  he  boarded,  but  as  I  insert  his 
entire  will  in  another  part  of  this  volume,  the  reader  can 
refer  to  it  if  he  desire  any  more  information  on  the 
subject. 

The  popularity  of  autobiography  is  shown  by  the  fic- 
tions which  take  tliis  shape,  such  as  Gil  Bias  and  Robinson 
Crusoe  and  even  Dante's  Inferno  is  in  some  respects  a 
personal  narrative.  Readers  like  to  have  the  hero  of  a  book 
tell  his  own  story.  Even  tlie  egoism  of  autobiography 
has  a  charm  and  Montaigne,  whose  egoism  is  so  fascinat- 
ing, says  in  reference  to  his  book  "finding  myself  empty 
of  other  matter  I  presented  inj^self  to  myself  for  an 
argument  and  subject."  How  vacant  our  literature  would 
be  were  it  shorn  of  autobiography. 

Twice  Mentioned  Book. 
Speaking  of  autobiography  there  was  a  book  of  this 


172  Our  Book. 

kind  written  more  than  a  century  ago  which  no  doubt 
had  some  merit,  and  yet  I  have  only  seen  it  mentioned 
twice,  and  if  it  be  in  existence  it  certainly  would  be  a 
great  curiosity.  Walter  Scott  mentions  among  the  books 
which  he  read  during  his  youth  one  called  "  Automa- 
thes,"  and  Gibbon  in  his  autobiography  writes  as  fol- 
lows : 

"I  was  delivered  at  the  age  of  seven  into  the  hnnds  of  Mr. 
John  Kirkby,  who  exercised  for  eighteen  months  the  office  of 
domestic  tutor.  He  was  tlie  author  of  a  Latin  grammar  vand  also 
of  the  Life  of  Automathes  —  the  story  of  a  youth  the  son  of  a 
shipwrecked  exile  who  lives  alone  on  a  desert  island  from  infancy 
to  manhood.  A  barbarian  is  his  nurse;  he  inherits  a  cottage  and 
some  useful  implements;  some  ideas  remain  of  the  education  of 
his  first  two  years;  some  ideas  he  borrows  from  the  beavers  of 
an  adjacent  stream;  some  truths  are  revealed  in  visions.  With 
these  helps  and  his  own  industry  Automathes  becomes  a  self- 
taught  though  speechless  philosopher.  The  book  is  not  devoid  of 
entertainment  and  instruction  and  among  other  interesting  pass- 
ages I  would  select  the  discovery  of  fire." 

A  book  which  interested  Walter  Scott  and  of  which 
Gibbon  thus  speaks  must  have  some  real  merit,  and  yet 
were  it  not  for  the  mention  made  by  these  two  authors  I 
should  never  have  known  its  existence. 

Authors  and  their  Correspondence. 

The  publication  of  literary  correspondence  is  a  modern 
feature  in  literature  —  beginning  with  the  wits  of  Queen 
Anne's  reign.  The  letters  of  Swift,  Gay  and  Bolingbroke 
which  have  been  o-athered  to2:ether  and  issued  in  book 
shape  afford  an  interesting  view  of  literary  life  in  that 
day,  but  on  the  other  hand  few  of  either  Addison  or 
Fielding's  letters  have  been  preserved.  Pope's  letters 
were  published  by  himself  as  he  said  in  order  to  prevent 
a  surreptitious  and  imperfect  edition.  The  latter  was 
threatened  by  Curl,  the  bookseller,  who  had  got  possession 
of  a  sufificient  number  to  make  a  small  volume  and  Pope 
tried  to  suppress  them  by  legal  measures.     This  added 


Popular  Letter  Writers.  173 

much  to  public  interest  but  it  declined  when  tlie  corre- 
spondence appeared  as  the  latter  had  but  little  merit. 

Lady  Mary  Wortley  Montague,  though  hated  by  Pope, 
was  vastly  more  popular  as  a  letter  vvriter.  Chesterfield's 
letters  were  once  widely  read  but  arc  now  but  little  known. 
They  are  addressed  to  a  son  who  went  while  a  child  to 
the  continent,  and  contain  a  valuable  series  of  lessons  in 
history  adapted  to  a  juvenile  mind.  It  is  surprising,  in- 
deed, to  see  one  of  the  busiest  statesman  of  his  day,  thus 
adapting  himself  to  a  child's  requirements.  Later  on, 
however,  he  gave  those  counsels  concerning  manners  which 
seem  only  intended  for  a  "  man  of  the  world." 

Gray's  letters  are  but  little  read,  being  too  artificial, 
while  on  the  other  hand  the  simple  unassuming  but  ele- 
gant letters  of  Cowper  hold  high  rank  in  literary  corre- 
spondence. Charles  Lamb's  letters  have  recently  been 
published  and  fill  two  volumes.  In  point  of  religious 
value  the  letters  of  John  Newton  bear  the  palm.  Burns' 
letters  are  interesting,  and  Walter  Scott  was  really 
inimitable.  His  combination  of  ease,  vivacity  and  humor 
always  fascinates  me  and  I  am  never  weary  of  his  letters. 
Johnson's  letters  have  some  points  of  interest  though 
often  gloomy.  His  letter  to  Chesterfield  is  the  most 
powerful  thing  of  the  kind  in  literature.  Published  cor- 
respondence is  becoming  more  popular  than  ever,  and 
the  life  and  letters  of  Irving  have  had  an  extensive  sale. 
Irving  was  a  delightful  correspondent.  Tom  Moore's 
letters  may  be  mentioned  as  showing  an  admirable  degree 
of  domestic  affection,  which  seems  in  strong  contrast  with 
Byi-on,  Coleridge,  Shelley,  and  some  other  men  of  genius 
Moore's  letters  to  his  mother  indeed  are  remarkable  for 
free  utterance  and  for  tender  sentiments.  His  entire 
correspondence  covers  an  extent  of  twenty-fiv^e  years  and 
includes  four  hundred  letters. 


174  OuK  Book. 

Horace  "Walpole  having  plenty  of  time  became  an  un- 
usuall}'  copious  correspondent,  and  his  letters  fill  a  half 
dozen  volumes.  The  letters  of  Burns  and  Charles  Lamb 
are  marked  by  those  shadows  that  often  fall  upon  genius. 
The  former  writes  that  "  he  wished  he  could  resign  life  as 
an  officer  resigns  a  commission,"  and  the  latter  tells  Cole- 
ridge, "  I  don't  know  why  I  write,  except  from  the  pro- 
pensity misery  has  to  tell  her  grief.  Hetty  (the  servant)  died 
Friday  night.  Mary  (his  sister)  is  fallen  ill  (insane)  again. 
I  was  obliged  to  remove  her  yesterday,  and  I  am  left  alone 
in  the  house  with  nothing  but  Hetty's  dead  body  to  kc'-p 
me  company."  When,  however,  the  clouds  passed  away 
Lamb's  letters  were  full  of  peculiar  humor. 

Byron's  letters  number  six  hundred  and  thirty-five  and 
are  really  the  most  ci'isp  and  racy  of  all  such  productions. 
They  have  the  charm  of  piquant  gossip  and  are  so  full  of 
hits  at  the  literati  of  that  day  that  the  reader  is  often  in 
an  unconscious  smile.  It  is  sad  to  notice,  however,  the 
deficiency  in  true  sentiment,  and.  the  only  one  that  has 
any  serious  aspect  is  his  reply  to  the  clergyman  which 
seems  to  me  a  sad  confession  of  an  ill-directed  life.  How 
strange,  considering  that  he  was  such  an  admirer  of  the 
sex,  that  hardly  a  dozen  of  his  published  letters  are  ad- 
dressed to  women.  They  were  chiefly  written  to  John 
Murray  his  publishei',  or  to  his  devoted  friend  Tom 
Moo]-e,  who  afterward  became  his  biographer,  the  propor- 
tion being  two  hundred  and  twenty -three  to  the  former, 
and  one  hundred  and  twentj^-four  to  the  latter.  Three- 
fifths  of  the  whole  number  arc  thus  addressed  to  two 
persons,  the  others  being  divided  among  a  half  dozen 
others. 

The  occasional  slurs  at  his  wife  show  that  he  never  for- 
gave her  for  checkmating  him  so  neatly  —  by  turning  a 
visit  home  into  a  permanent  separation.     He  felt  that  she 


Popular  Lettek  Wkiteks.  175 

liad  got  the  better  of  hiin  in  the  matrimonial  difficulties, 
and  hence  he  never  returned  to  England,  althongh  he 
often  expressed  a  desire  to  do  so.  The  above-mentioned 
correspondence  was  chiefly  written  during  liis  eight  years 
of  foreign  life,  closing  at  Missolonghi,  and  the  last  is  only 
dated  two  weeks  prior  to  his  death.  Dickens'  corre- 
sj)ondence  shows  that  he  too  was  an  admirable  letter 
writer. 

Coming  still  nearer  home  it  may  be  said  that  the 
most  remarkable  series  of  letters,  in  point  of  extent  at 
least,  is  the  correspondence  maintained  by  James  W. 
Alexander  with  John  Hall  of  Trenton.  Both  were 
active  clergymen,  friends  from  boyhood,  and  men  of  con- 
genial tastes. 

They  corresponded  foi'  forty  years,  and  Hall  published 
Alexander's  letters,  thus  giving  the  world  a  charming 
series  of  brief  outflows  of  incident  and  opinion.  The 
writer  of  this  certainly  feels  deeply  indebted  to  Hall  for 
his  addition  to  literary  correspondence. 

Latimer's  Sermons. 

The  sermons  of    Latimer,  who    suffered    martyrdom 

three  centuries  ago,  have  been  republished  lately,  and 

are  considered  fine  sj^ecimens  of  earnest  preaching.     The 

faithful  martyr  was  very  severe  on  the  fashion  worshipers 

of  his  day.     Let  me  give  modern  hearers  a  sample  of 

old-fashioned  preaching  in  the  matter  of  wonum's  apparel 

concerning  which  Latimer  discourses  as  follows : 

"What  was  her  swadlj'ng  cloth  wherein  holy  Mary  layed  the 
kyng  of  heaven  and  earth?  No  doubt  it  was  poor  gure;  perad- 
venture  it  was  her  kercliiefe  which  she  took  from  her  head,  or 
such  like  gere,  for  I  think  Mary  had  not  much  fine  gere.  She 
was  not  trimmed  up  as  our  women  are  now-a-dayes,  for  I  think  in 
tlie  olde  tyme  women  were  content  with  honest  and  single  gar- 
ments. Now  they  have  found  out  these  rounde  aboutes ;  they  were 
not  invented  then ;  the  devil  was  not  so  cunnyng  to  make  such 
gere;  he  found  it  out  afterward.     Therefore  Mary  had  it  not." 


176  Odk  Book. 

Speaking  of  "  rounde  aboiites,"  -vvliat  would  tlie  preacher 
have  said  to  the  ladies'  jackets  of  modern  days?  Per- 
haps however  no  more  than  might  be  uttered  in  the  way 
of  censure  of  the  other  sex. 

Dickens'  Early  Success. 

Looking  backward  to  the  advent  of  Dickens  to  the 
American  public,  I  am  much  surprised  to  observe  how  slow 
our  great  publishers  were  to  acknowledge  his  power.  In 
1838  a  petty  book-seller  in  Chatham  street  named  James 
Turney,  commenced  the  issue  of  a  monthly  humorist, 
with  caricature  plates,  called  the  Pickwick  Papers.  It 
was  extensively  read,  but  failed  to  get  above  clerks  and 
apprentices,  who  were  charmed  with  Sam  Weller  and  the 
fat  boy. 

There  were  but  two  episodes  in  the  whole  book  which 
indicated  the  hidden  power  of  the  author.  These  were 
the  fragment  found  in  a  mad  house,  and  the  dying  scene 
of  the  pantomimist.  A  few  months  subsequently  I  was 
visiting  at  the  family  of  one  of  our  most  scientific  men 
who  read  the  Pickwick  Papers  with  delight,  and  who  told 
me  that  their  design  was  in  part  to  ridicule  the  false  sci- 
ence of  the  day,  and  the  tendency  to  form  societies  of  in- 
vestigation, which  then  were  all  the  rage.  Almost  every 
town  in  England  had  some  gathering  of  would-be  sci- 
entists, whose  proceedings  were  glorified  in  monthly 
reports. 

To  ridicule  this  Dickens  invented  the  Pickwick  Club, 
whose  object  was  to  travel  for  the  purpose  of  investigat- 
ing both  scenes  and  phenomena  of  an  important  charac- 
ter.    The  very  name  Pickwick  refers  to  the  use  of  the 

midniffht  oil  so  often  mentioned  in  connection  with  stu- 

o 

dent  life.     As  the  work  advanced  this  feature  was  neg 
lected   in  favor  of  the  more  humorous  and  social  scenes; 


The  Course  of  Time.  ITt 

but  it  was  still  retained  until  the  close,  and  Mr.  Pickwick 
will  always  be  the  caricature  of  the  kind-hearted  and 
blundering  philosopher,  whose  mistakes  and  misfortunes 
keep  the  reader  in  perpetual  glee. 

It  was  not  however,  until  Oliver  Twist  and  Nicholas 
Nickleby  appeared  that  their  author  reached  full  recogni- 
tion as  a  genius,  and  even  those  books,  like  the  Pickwick 
Papers  were  neglected  by  the  leading  publishers.  Hence 
the  contrast  between  the  past  and  the  present  in  the 
Dickens  literature  is  one  of  the  notable  things  of  the 
age. 

The  Course  Of  Toie. 

One  of  the  peculiarities  of  this  remarkable  poem  is  that 
the  seventh  book  was  written  lirst,  for  after  making  this  be- 
ginning the  author  remodelled  his  plan.  Pollok,  like  Henry 
Kirke  White,  struggled  with  bitter  poverty,  as  well  as  ill 
health,  and  died  just  as  he  had  conquered  fame.  "White, 
during  his  youth,  labored  at  a  loom,  and  Pollok  tried 
chair  making.  In  each  instance  education  was  obtained 
through  the  exertion  of  self-denying  kindred,  and  Pollok 
said  of  his  parents  and  sisters,  "  I  know  so  well  their  ina- 
bility to  assist  me,  that  every  shilling  I  spend  tortures  my 
soul."  Each  had  the  ministry  in  view,  but  never  fulfilled 
the  expectation,  White  dying  at  twenty-two  and  Pollok 
at  twenty-eight.  The  latter  while  writing  his  poem  had 
eternity  in  full  view,  for  his  frame  was  sinking  and  much 
of  the  work  was  done  in  bed.  Each  is  identified  with 
Byron  whose  "  Darkness  "  suggested  the  Course  of  Time, 
which  contains  his  pen  picture.  White's  unconscious  in- 
fluence over  Byron  is  referred  to  on  page  116. 

Variations  in  Taste. 

A  noticeable  feature  in  literature  is  the  attention  now 
23 


178  Our  Book. 

paid  to  the  writers  of  the  eighteenth  century,  recalling 
the  coarse  but  pungent  Swift,  the  classical  Addison,  the 
rollicking  Fielding,  the  latinized  Johnson,  the  piquant 
Goldsmith,  the  thundering  Junius,  the  inflated  Gibbon, 
and  the  emotional  Burns,  closing  with  the  grandeur  of 
Burke.  It  is  certainly  a  point  of  distinction  in  the  lit- 
erary record  of  the  eighteenth  century  that  it  gave  Pope 
and  Burns  to  the  world.  The  former  was  immensely  popu- 
lar in  his  day,  and  the  neglect  which  his  woi  ks  afterward 
suffered  was  mentioned  by  Byron  as  one  of  the  worst 
signs  of  the  decay  of  taste.  True  enough  ;  and  when  the 
proper  standard  was  restored,  the  popularity  of  Pope  was 
renewed. 

Wordsworth  was  at  that  time  the  so-called  "  high  priest 
of  nature,"  and  the  new  school  then  opening  threatened 
a  speedy  oblivion  to  the  author  of  the  Dunciad.  Byron, 
whose  perceptions  in  literature  were  always  accurate, 
assumed  the  defense  of  Pope  and  affirmed  that  he  would 
survive  the  poets  of  that  age  —  a  fact  whose  reality  is 
now  very  clear.  Southej^  is  utterly  dead  and  buried. 
So  is  Landor ;  Coleridge  is  only  known  by  a  few  of  his 
best  things.  Shelley  is  neglected,  and  Wordsworth  is 
only  known  to  a  small  circle  of  admirers. 

It  is  one  of  the  curious  incidents  of  student  life  that 
Gibbon,  when  only  twenty,  corrected  a  Paris  university 
professor.  lie  found  in  the  speech  of  Hannibal  (in  Livy) 
a  sentence,  which,  as  he  says,  "  cannot  be  reconciled  by 
any  torture,  with  his  character  or  argument.  The  commen- 
tators dissemble  or  confess  their  per]>lexity.  It  occurred  to 
me  that  the  change  of  a  single  letter  {otio  instead  of  odio) 
might  restore  a  clear  and  consistent  sense."  He  wrote  at 
once  to  Professor  Crevier,  who  had  edited  an  edition  of 
Livy,  and  his  correction  was  accepted.  Gibbon,  however, 
afterward  erred    greatly    in    adopting   an  inflated  style, 


Variations  in  Taste.  170 

and  Noah  Webster,  then  editor  of  the  American  Magazine, 
piibhshed  hi  1788,  keenly,  but  correctly,  says,  "his  style 
is  uniformly  the  worst  model  of  historical  style  that  has 
appeared  in  our  language."  The  American  Critic  resisted 
the  applause  which  this  artificial  style  at  first  awoke,  but 
public  opinion  has  long  approved  Webster's  censure. 

It  was  Dryden's  weakness  to  imagine  that  he  could 
improve  Shakespeare  by  altering  both  Troilus  and  Cres- 
sida  and  the  Tempest,  thus  setting  a  bad  example  to 
other  literary  tinkerers. 

To  return  to  Wordsworth  it  may  be  said  that  he  affords 

the  only  instance  of  an  author  making  a  suggestion  which 

was  afterward  fulfilled  by  a  crime  of  the  most  horrible 

character.     I  refer  to  the  following  lines: 

*'Sw3et  is  the  lore  that  nature  brings, 
Our  meddling  intellect 
Mis-shapes  the  beauteous  forms  of  things, 
We  murder  to  dissect." 

The  poet  lived  to  read  the  trial  of  Burke  and  Hare 
for  committing  several  murders,  the  victims  being  sold 
for  dissection,  and  1  need  hardly  add  that  the  crime  was 
expiated  on  the  gallows. 

E.0BINS0N  Crusoe  and  its  Author. 
This  is  the  only  book  of  that  date  which  has  grown  in 
popularity  with  the  flight  of  time.  Rousseau  was  so  de- 
lighted with  it  that  it  was  to  form  the  sole  library  of 
Emile  (Rousseau's  perfectly  educated  young  man),  while 
Johnson  said  it  was  one  of  the  small  number  of  books 
of  which  he  was  never  tired.  The  first  edition  was  issued 
in  1719,  and  only  six  copies  of  the  first  volume  are  known 
to  be  in  existence,  two  of  which  are  in  Amer'ca.     The 


180  Ouu  Book. 

author  was  fiftj-eight  when  it  first  appeared,  and  he  sur- 
vived its  publication  only  eleven  years.  The  author  of 
Robinson  Crusoe  was  a  strange  combination  of  religion, 
trade,  politics  and  imagination,  who  went  through  the 
most  varied  experience  ever  connected  with  literature. 

Daniel  De  Foe  was  the  son  of  a  London  butcher,  and 
became  a  preacher.  He  was  born  more  than  two  centu- 
ries ago,  and  as  politics  were  more  congenial  than  the  pul- 
pit, he  devoted  himself  to  public  questions,  which  he 
handled  with  great  courage  and  power.  He  also  was  en- 
gaged in  merchandise,  but  failed  in  a  disastrous  manner. 
He  then  became  more  radical  in  politics  than  ever,  and 
was  arrested  for  the  severity  of  his  attacks  on  the  House 
of  Commons.  He  was  fined,  and  not  only  placed  in  the 
pillory,  but  imprisoned  two  years.  None  of  these  severi- 
ties, however,  could  abate  his  love  of  liberty.  After  he 
had  reached  his  fifty-eighth  year  he  wrote  Robinson 
Crusoe  as  an  amusement.  How  strange  that  it  should  be 
the  sole  basis  of  his  fame !  He  issued  two  hundred  and 
ten  publications,  and  yet  this  is  the  only  one  that  sur- 
vives. De  Foe  lived  twelve  years  after  the  appearance 
of  this  work,  and  saw  its  popularity.  He  died  in  his 
seventieth  year,  a  few  months  before  the  birth  of  Wash- 
ington —  with  whom  he  is  worthy  of  mention  in  patri- 
otic connection.  Djnng  insolvent,  he  left  tlie  follow- 
ing couplet  as  a  picture  of  his  life. 

"  No  man  has  tasted  different  fortunes  more, 
And  thirteen  times  have  I  been  rich  and  poor." 

Authors  and  Dogs. 
It  is  interesting  to  notice  what  power  dogs  have,  in 
some  cases,  held  over  men  of  genius  !  Hogarth  was  de- 
cidedly a  canine  amateur,  and  introduced  this  animal  into 
liis  best  works,  including  his  own  portrait.  His  com- 
panion in  the  latter  is  a  bull-dog,  v/hich  appears  to  have 


Authors  and  Dogs.  181 

been  his  favorite  breed.  Turiiin*^  from  painters  to  au- 
thors, there  is  the  case  of  Byron,  who  found  in  the  death 
of  "  Boatswain  "  an  early  bereavement.  The  animal  had 
a  respectful  bui-ial,  and  was  honored  by  a  monument  witli 
the  following  inscription : 

"  Near  this  spot 
Are  deposited  the  remains  of  one 
Who  possessed  beauty  without  vanity, 

Strengtli  witliout  insolence, 

Courage  without  ferocity, 
And  all  tlie  virtues  of  man  without  his  vices. 
Tiiis  praise,  which  would  be  unmeaning  flattery 

If  inscribed  over  human  ashes. 

Is  but  a  just  tribute  to  the  memory  of 
Boatswain  —  a  dog, 
Who  was  born  at  Newfoundland,  May,  1803, 
And  died  at  Newstead  Abbey,  November  18,  1808." 

Byron  built  a  vault  for  his  dog  and  also  for  himself, 

including  his  faithful  servant  Joe  Murray.     He  did  not 

wish   to    be   placed    in  the  ancestral  tomb  in  Hucknell 

church,   and  hence  inserted   the  following  clause  in  his 

will : 

"I  desire  that  my  body  may  be  buried  in  the  vault  in  the  gar- 
den at  Newstead,  without  any  ceremony  or  funeral  service,  and  no 
inscription  except  name  and  age.  It  is  also  my  wish  that  my 
faithful  dog  may  not  be  removed  from  said  vault." 

His  e.xecutors,  however,  did  not  obey  this  injunction, 
and  the  interment  was  in  the  family  tomb.  Joe  Murray 
was  buried  elsewhere,  and  hence  Boatswain  lies  "  alone 
in  his  gloi-y."  Byron  wrote  an  elegiac  poem  on  the  death 
of  this  favorite,  part  of  which  is  as  follows : 

"  When  some  proud  son  of  man  returns  to  earth, 
Unknown  to  glory,  but  upheld  by  birth ; 
The  sculptor's  art  exiiausts  the  pomp  of  woe, 
And  storied  urns  record  who  rest  below ; 
When  all  is  done  upon  the  tomb  is  seen. 
Not  what  he  was,  but  what  he  should  have  been. 
But  the  poor  dog,  in  life  the  warmest  friend. 
The  first  to  welcome  and  the  foremost  to  defend , 
Whose  honest  heart  is  still  his  master's  own ; 
Who  labors,  fights,  lives  and  breathes  for  him  alone; 


182  OuK  Book. 

Unhonored  falls,  unnoticed  all  his  worth, 
Denied  in  heaven  the  soul  he  holds  on  earth; 
While  man,  vain  insect,  hopes  to  be  forgiven, 
And  claims  himself  a  sole  exclusive  heaven. 

Scott  and  His  Dogs. 
Scott's  first  canine  favorite  was  "  Camp,"  whose  death 
was  very  severely  felt.  Lockhart  says:  "My  wife 
(Sophia  Scott)  tells  me  she  remembers  the  whole  family 
standing  in  tears  about  the  grave,  as  her  father  smoothed 
down  the  turf  above  Camp  —  with  the  saddest  expres- 
sion she  had  ever  seen  on  his  face.  Maida,  however,  was 
the  most  celebrated,  and  after  death  was  honored  with  a 
tombstone  and  epitaph.  Lockhart  speaks  of  Maida  as 
one  of  the  noblest  dogs  that  ever  shared  the  fellowship 
of  man.  His  portrait  appears  both  in  the  pictures  of 
Sophia  and  also  in  that  of  the  author  himself,  and  he  was 
introduced  into  Woodstock  under  the  name  of  Bevis. 
Even  Homer,  the  earliest  of  poets,  has  his  dogs,  and 
Telemachus,  when  returning  from  his  protracted  wander- 
ings, though  unknown  to  the  attendant,  is  thus  recognized  : 

''  The  prince's  near  approach  the  dogs  descry, 
And  fawning  round  his  feet,  confessed  their  joy." 

Still,  more  pathetic  is  the  welcome  of  Ulysses,  who  was 
also  unknown  to  all  but  his  dog,  which  died  for  joy  : 

Thus  near  the  gates  conferring  as  they  drew, 
Argus,  the  dog,  his  ancient  master  knew, 
He  not  unconscious  of  the  voice  and  tread 
Lifts  to  tlie  sound  his  ear  and  rears  his  head. 
********* 
Tlie  dog  whom  fate  had  granted  to  behold, 
His  lord  when  twenty  tedious  years  had  rolled ; 
Takes  a  last  look,  and  having  seen  him  dies, 
So  closed  forever  faithful  Argus'  eyes. 

Suppressed  Wokks. 

The  most  remarkable  instance  was  the  effort  made  by 
the  German  government  to  suppress  Dr.    Mackenzie's 


Suppressed  Woeks.  183 

book  concerning  the  treatment  of  tlie  late  emperor.  In 
general  literatnre  may  be  mentioned  Motley's  first 
book  called  Morton's  Hope.  When  the  author  became 
known  as  an  historian,  he  was  ashamed  of  his  early  pro- 
duction, and  carefully  destroyed  all  the  copies  he  could 
obtain.  In  the  same  manner  James  Fenimore  Cooper 
suppressed  his  first  novel,  which  was  called  Precaution, 
and  Whittier  suppressed  his  glowing  tribute  to  L.  E.  L. 

Dickens  suppressed  a  comic  opera,  which  was  issued 
among  his  early  productions.  Byron  tried  to  suppress 
that  portion  of  his  English  Bards  and  Scotch  Reviewers, 
which  reflects  so  severely  on  Walter  Scott.  He  mucli 
regretted  his  severe  and  unwarrantable  sarcasm,  and  apolo- 
gized to  the  author  in  a  very  candid  manner.  Scott  sup- 
pressed his  poem  called  the  Battle  of  Waterloo.  It  was 
hastily  written,  being  for  the  benefit  of  the  sufferers,  and 
was  so  inferior  as  to  be  unworthy  of  preservation. 

Cowpcr  had  a  still  more  bitter  feeling  concerning  his 
John  Gilpin.  It  got  beyond  his  power,  and  therefore  ho 
could  not  suppress  it ;  but  the  memory  of  so  comic  a  pro- 
duction added  to  the  woe  of  that  madness  which  for 
years  threw  its  horrors  over  his  soul. 

Washington  Irving  suppressed  the  satirical  dedication 
of  Knickerbocker  History  to  the  Historical  Society. 

Wordsworth  wisely  suppressed  a  tragedy,  and  Charles 
Lamb  suppressed  his  bitter  retort  on  his  old  friend 
Southey  —  but  not  until  after  its  publication  brought  a 
kind  explanation,  and  their  friendship  was  renewed.  The 
gentle  Elia,  when  provoked,  could  dip  his  pen  in  gall. 

Gibbon  suppressed  his  first  book  Essai  sur  r etude  de 
la  Literature.  It  had  run  out  of  print,  and  the  appear- 
ance of  his  history  awoke  curiosity  for  his  early  effort. 
The  publisher  desired  to  issue  another  edition,  but  the 
author  refused.     He  did  not,  however,  conceal  his  satis- 


184  OuE  Book. 

faction  at  seeing  it  sell  as  a  curiosity,  for  six  times  the 
original  price. 

Coming  down  to  modern  times  a  prominent  New  York 
house  published  the  adventures  of  Arthur  Gordon  Pym 
from  an  Enghsh  edition,  supposing  it  to  be  a  record  of 
actual  discovery ;  but  as  soon  as  they  learned  that  it  was 
a  fiction  by  the  ingenious  Edgar  A.  Poe,  they  suppressed 
the  entire  edition. 

The  Suppressed  Byron. 
Two  books  relating  to  Byron  were  suppressed,  one 
being  his  personal  memoirs  —  to  which  I  shall  make  later 
reference  —  while  the  other  was  the  Dallas  collection  of 
correspondence.  Bobert  C.  Dallas  was  a  prominent  litera- 
teur  and,  as  his  sister  married  Byron's  uncle,  this  led  to 
an  acquaintance  with  the  poet  who  found  him  useful  in 
revising  his  early  productions  and  seeing  them  through 
the  press.  Dallas  superintended  the  publication,  both  of 
English  Bards  and  Scotch  Reviewers,  and  also  Childe 
Harold,  and  as  a  token  of  gratitude  Byron  gave  him  the 
copyright  of  the  latter  which  brought  £4,000  —  equal  to 
$2(>,000.  Dallas  obtained  Byron's  correspondence  with 
his  mother,  and  also  other  family  letters,  and  as  soon  as 
the  poet  died  he  announced  his  intention  to  publish  them. 
It  would  certainly  have  been  a  sensational  book  and  would 
have  had  large  sale,  l)ut  the  family  opposed  any  revela- 
tions of  the  dark  scenes  in  the  poet's  life  and  obtained  an 
injunction  —  much  to  the  regret  of  London  gossipers. 
Dallas  however  wrote  a  series  of  reminiscences  of  the 
poet,  but  it  was  a  hurried  work  and  did  not  satisfy 
the  public.  It  may  be  added  that  Robert  C.  Dallas  was 
uncle  of  the  late  George  M.  Dallas,  vice-president  under 
Polk. 


Algerink  Captive.  185 

Eoyal  Tyler  wrote  the  first  American  drama  tliat 
reached  public  performance,  bnt  really  the  earliest  play 
printed  in  this  country  was  the  Prince  of  Parthia,  which 
was  published  in  Philadelphia  in  1707.  The  author  was 
Thomas  Godfrey,  who  was  successively  a  watchmaker,  an 
artist,  a  soldier,  and  a  merchant,  as  well  as  a  poet,  and 
yet  hardly  has  a  place  in  literature. 

Royal  T}  ler  also  wrote  the  first  American  tale,  called 
the  Algerine  Captive.  It  went  through  two  editions,  but 
is  now  almost  unknown.  It  has  no  plot,  and  the  author's 
object  seems  to  have  been  to  show  up  the  errors  of  the 
times,  and  especially  the  disgrace  in  paying  ti'ibute  to  the 
Algerines  for  the  privilege  of  sailing  in  the  Mediterranean 
unmolested.  It  now  seems  almost  incredible  that  the 
United  States  was  ever  subjected  to  this  humiliation,  but 
such  is  history.  Our  government,  however,  eventually  sent 
a  squadron  to  Algiers  under  Decatur  who  soon  taught  that 
nation  of  pirates  to  respect  our  flag.  The  author  pub- 
lished his  book  with  a  pen  name  and  the  title  was  as  fol- 
lows:  The  Algerine  Captive,  or  the  life  and  adventures 
of  Dr.  Updike  Underbill,  six  years  a  prisoner  among  the 
Algerines.  The  book  was  popular  and  Tyler  perhaps  would 
have  pursued  fiction,  but  the  very  next  year  —  1798  — 
Charles  Brockden  Brown's  first  novel  appeared  and  this 
checked  all  rivalry. 

I  have  seen  but  one  copy  of  the  first  edition  of  the  Alge- 
rine Captive,  and  as  the  book  is  not  to  be  found  in  the  Astor 
Librai-y  it  must  be  indeed  rare.  The  print  is  very  good  and 
so  is  the  paper,  and  it  is  highly  probable  that  this  was  an  un- 
usually elegant  effort  of  typographical  art.  The  chapters 
are  short  and  are  garnished  with  those  poetic  captions  which 
once  were  in  common  use  but  are  now  discontinued. 

The  book  is  autobiographical,  and  the  author  tells  of 
his  early  life  in  New  England,  and  then  gives  his  experi- 
24 


186  Our  Book. 

ence  as  a  school-master,  boarding  'round  and  taking 
paj  in  barter.  He  then  becomes  a  pliysician  and  attempts 
practice  in  a  small  village,  where  the  medical  faculty  coin- 
prised  the  cheap  doctor,  the  learned  doctor,  the  safe  doc- 
tor and  the  musical  doctor.  The  author  received  so 
small  an  amount  of  patronage  under  this  rivalry  that  he 
determined  to  go  south,  and  on  reaching  Philadelphia 
called  on  Franklin,  who  received  him  with  much  kind- 
ness. In  this  connection  the  author  gives  some  of  those 
anecdotes  of  the  great  philosopher  which  have  been  gen- 
erally copied  but  are  original  here.  From  Philadelphia 
the  author  journeys  to  Fredericksburg,  but  finding  no 
encouragement  sails  for  London  as  a  ship  surgeon,  and 
while  there  he  meets  Thomas  Paine,  of  whom  he  gives  a 
very  neat  pen  picture. 

On  July  18,  1Y88,  the  author  sails  in  the  ship  Sympa- 
thy for  Africa,  the  object  being  to  bring  a  cargo  of  slaves 
to  South  Carolina.  The  reader  will  understand  that  the 
name  of  the  vessel  is  in  itself  a  satire,  the  author's  object 
being  to  expose  some  of  the  horrors  of  the  slave  trade. 
They  reach  the  slave  coast  and  take  in  a  cargo,  but  he, 
with  some  others  who  remain  too  long  on  shore,  are  cap- 
tured by  a  Moorish  privateer  and  carried  to  Algiers, 
where  by  way  of  retribution  they  are  made  slaves.  It  may 
be  said  that  the  Algerine  Captive,  being  the  first  Ameri- 
can fiction,  is  a  very  creditable  beginning  of  a  specialty 
which  now  seems  almost  boundless.  The  aullior  portrays 
life  as  he  found  it,  and  if  his  followers  in  fiction  have  ex- 
celled him  they  cc>rtainly  have  had  a  broader  field.  The  de- 
velopment of  society,  indeed,  is  fully  equal  with  all  advance 
in  literature. 

Walpole  Wits. 

Could  Horace  Walpole  have  designated  the  character  of 
the  New  Hampshire  village  which  should  bear  the  familj' 


Walpole  "Wits.  187 

name  he  could  hardly  have  been  more  felicitous.  How 
strange  it  now  seems  that  Walpole  should  have  been  one 
of  the  most  important  literary  centers  !  This  was  at  the 
beginning  of  the  present  centm-y,  but  still  it  is  worth}'  of 
remembrance.  Isaiah  Thomas  was  a  printer  at  that  place, 
and  though  he  afterward  concentrated  his  efforts  at  Wor- 
cester he  did  some  of  his  best  work  in  Walpole,  and  his 
Farmers'  Museum  was  the  ablest  periodical  of  its  day. 
It  contained  the  brilliant  contributions  of  Koyal  Tyler, 
and  also  of  Joseph  Dennie,  who  afterward  became  the 
editor  of  the  Portfolio,  which  was  the  best  thing  of  the 
kind  on  the  entire  continent. 

It  is  no  small  distinction  to  Walpole  that  the  first 
American  fiction  should  have  been  pubhshed  there,  and 
the  Algerine  Captive  was  followed  by  a  volume  of  Den- 
nie's  Essays.  During  the  publication  of  the  Farmers' 
Museum  Walpole  attracted  the  attention  of  the  literary 
world,  but  hard  times  killed  the  Museum,  and  then  Koyal 
Tyler  devoted  himself  to  law,  and  reached  a  high  posi- 
tion in  the  judiciary  of  Yerinont. 

It  may  be  added  that  Walpole  not  only  produced  the 
first  American  fiction,  but  that  it  was  the  birthplace  of 
the  first  American  author  who  appeared  in  English  lit- 
erature after  the  revohition.  I  allude  to  Thomas  Fes- 
senden,  who  was  one  of  the  Walpole  wits,  but  afterward 
visited  London,  where  he  published,  in  1804,  a  satire 
which  went  through  two  editions,  and  was  reprinted  in 
New  York.  It  appeared  under  the  pen  name  of  Christo- 
pher Caustic,  F.  R.  S.,  LL.  D.  and  A.  S.  S.,  and  was  one 
of  the  best  things  of  that  day. 

Clergymen    and   their  Titles. 
The  hit   which   Christopher   Caustic  makes   at   titles 
shows  that  even  in  his  time  the  ridiculous  nature  of  this 


188  Our  Book. 

mania  was  apparent.  Had  Christopher  Caustic,  however, 
lived  in  the  present  age  how  much  more  intense  would 
have  been  his  sarcasm  ?  The  mania  indeed  has  increased 
to  a  degree  which  often  awakens  contempt,  and  if  the 
clergy  and  others,  who  are  so  proudly  displaying  their 
titles,  could  see  how  this  appears  to  others  it  certainly 
would  do  them  no  harm.  Perhaps,  Mr.  D.  D.  and  LL.  D., 
'it  might  at  least  induce  you  to  omit  the  title  occasionally. 

This  leads  me  to  say  that  no  class  is  so  tenacious  on 
this  point  as  the  clergy.  Horace  Greeley,  Charles  O'Conor, 
Secretary  of  War  Stanton  and  Washington  Irving, 
each  received  LL.  D.,  and  yet  who  ever  beheld  it  tacked 
to  their  names?  Such  men  have  too  much  self-conscious- 
ness to  permit  this  display.  Our  clergy,  however,  gen- 
erally parade  every  additional  title  in  the  most  showy 
manner  —  first  D.  D.,  then  LL.  D.,  then  D.  C.  L.,  and 
all  others  that  they  may  obtain.  These  titles  they  exact 
when  their  names  are  put  in  print,  and  the  result  is  that 
the  religious  papers  are  studded  with  D.  D.  and  LL.  D. 
to  a  degree  that  is  often  disgusting.  The  editors,  how- 
ever, know  that  an  omission  of  title  would  give  offense. 

A  young  clergyman,  who  was  preaching  at  a  rural 
resort  during  his  outing,  said  to  a  friend  of  mine  when 
they  posted  a  notice  of  the  meeting :  "  Make  it  doctor. 
It  may  attract  more."  This  man  could  not  forego  his 
title  even  for  one  evening.  Another  instance  of  the  same 
kind  is  as  follows :  The  writer  of  this  once  addressed  a 
young  clergyman  as  plain  "  Mr.,"  when  the  person  ad- 
dressed drew  back  with  an  appearance  of  offended  dignity 
and  said  "  doctor^  if  you  please,  sir."  I  am  not,  however, 
in  the  habit  of  giving  flattering  titles  to  any  one,  and  I 
can  only  regret  that  my  clerical  brethren  show  so  little 
self- consciousness  of  their  great  work  as  to  think  they  can 
really  be  honored  in  this  manner. 


Clergymen  and  their  Titles.  189 

The  clergy,  however,  are  but  human,  and  yet  true 
humanity  rises  far  above  such  jjetty  vanity.  See  how 
much  greater  "Wilham  Pitt''  sounds  than  any  title 
belonging  to  the  peerage.  As  prime  minister  he  ruled 
Great  Britain,  but  he  never  desired  to  be  aught  else  than 
Mr.  Pitt.  How  grand  also  does  "Mr.  Gladstone"  ap- 
pear—  retaining  this  simplicity  among  the  titled  ranks  of 
the  British  aristocracy. 

In  speaking  of  the  mania  of  the  clergy  some  excep- 
tions are  to  be  noticed.  The  leai-ned  commentator  Barnes 
declined  it,  and  so  have  other  distinguished  preachers, 
thus  leaving  an  example  worthy  of  imitation. 

One  of  the  evil  results  of  clerical  titles  is  the  discon- 
tent among  those  whose  ambition  has  long  been  fixed  on 
this  attain uient,  and  in  some  instances  the  practice  has 
been  as  Shakespeare  says  :  "  assume  a  virtue  if  you  have 
it  not."  Men  have  boldly  attached  the  D.  D.  to  their 
names  without  waiting  for  the  slow  movements  of  colleges, 
and  I  have  even  seen  it  engraved  on  a  door-plate  by  one 
who  had  assumed  it  iu  this  manner.  This  also  explains 
the  pressure  on  college  trustees  by  solicitous  applicants  — 
or  their  friends  —  who,  after  all  their  wire-pulling,  are 
often  disappointed.  The  editor  of  a  New  York  religious 
paper  was  once  called  on  by  a  rural  pastor  who  requested 
him,  in  mailing  his  paper,  to  address  it  to  "  Dr."  instead 
of  ''  Mr.,"  and  the  editor  naturally  inquired  what  college 
had  conferred  the  honor.  "  Oh,  none,"  was  the  reply, 
"but  it's  a  way  my  people  are  getting  into  of  calling 
me."  He  really  meant  it  was  a  way  which  he  desired 
they  should  be  led  to  adopt. 

The  degree  business  has  become  so  extensive  that  it  is 
now  classified.  When  a  clergyman  parades  his  D.  D.  the 
question  is  often  asked,  "  where  did  he  get  it? "  and  then 
will  come  the  estimate  of  its  rank.     Harvard  stands  first, 


190  OcK  Book. 

Yale  next,  and   after  tliese  come  the  colleges  of  more 

recent  date.     "  Yes,"  was  the  remark  made  concerning  a 

preacher  who  flourished  one  of  these  titles,  "true,  he's  a 

D.  D.,  but  he  only  got  it  from  a  western  college."     Hev. 

Henry  K wrote  thus  to  a  catalogue  maker : 

My  degree  (D.  D.)  was  conferred  by  Harvard.     In  the  catalogue 

you  mention College.     It  proceeds  from  an  institution  that 

is  less  profuse  in  its  degrees   than  the   younger   colleges.     You 
may  therefore  make  the  alteration. 

What  an  example  of  gospel  hmnility. 

The  colored  congregations  have  caught  the  same  itch, 
and  it  was  said  by  a  man  on  his  return  from  the  south 
that  lie  had  be€n  shaved  b}-  a  doctor  of  divinity,  while 
another  blackened  his  boots  and  a  third  waited  on  him  at 
table.  The  colored  people  are  determined  their  preachers 
shall  be  doctors,  however  humble  may  be  their  secular 
employment,  thus  emulating  that  display  which  they  see 
so  dearly  coveted  by  tlieir  white  brethren.  Perhaps  this 
mania  may  yet  inspire  another  "  Christopher  Caustic." 

Penalty  of  Success. 
This  is  jealousy  and  hate.  Poe  sneered  at  Longfellow, 
and  Irving  endured  the  spite  of  another  American 
writer.  Wordsworth  was  jealous  of  Byron,  but  a  still 
more  impressive  instance  is  found  in  Pope,  for  the  reason 
that  he  was  the  first  writer  that  made  literature  profita- 
ble. This  was  sufficient  to  occasion  the  attack  of  the 
starving  horde  of  Grub  street,  which  employed  every 
method  of  expressing  hate  —  as  he  says  in  the  Prologue 
to  the  Satires: 

The  tale  revived  —  the  lie  so  oft  o'erthrown, 
The  imputed  trash,  the  dullness  not  his  own; 
The  moral,  blackened  when  the  writings  'scape, 
The  libelPd  person  and  the  pictured  shape; 
Abuse  on  all  he  loved,  or  loved  him  spread, 
A  friend  in  exile  or  a  father  dead. 

A  sample  of  these  libels  is  found  in  Gildon's statement 


Penalty  of  Success.  191 

concerning  the  envied  and  liated  poet :     "  His  origin  is 

not  from  Adam  but  the  devil,  and  he  wanted  nothing  bnt 

horns  to  be  tlie  exact  resemblance  of  his  infernal  father." 

John  Dennis,  wrote  as  follows  : 

What  rare  members  are  here!  Would  not  one  swear  that  this 
youngster  had  espoused  some  antiquated  muse  who  has  got  the 
gout  in  her  decrepid  age,  which  makes  him  hobble  so  damnably. 

In  another  place  he  thus  describes  Pope : 

A  young  squat,  short  gentleman  whose  outward  form,  though 
it  should  be  that  of  a  downright  monkey,  would  not  differ  so 
much  from  the  human  shape  as  his  unthinking  immaterial  part 
does  from  human  understanding. 

Smedley  says :    "  He  will  do  well  to  escape  with  his 

life,  and  adds  a  desire  that  he  would  hang  himself  or  cut 

his  throat,"  while  a  number  of  small  wits  issued  a  satire 

called  the  Popiad,   which   contained   a  full  measure  of 

insult.     No  wonder  this  incessant  lire  awoke  the  severest 

vengeance  of  which  the  galled  poet  was  capable,  and  the 

result  was  the  Dunciad  which  as  has  been  mentioned  was 

pui)hshed  anonymously  and  in  Dublin  in  order  to  distract 

public  attention  fi'om  the  author.     As  soon  as  the  latter 

found  himself  free  from  what  he  calls  "the  threats  of 

vengeance  on  his  head,"  he  took  great  delight  in  this 

satire,  which  he  published   in   London   in   an  enlarged 

edition.     To  this  he  thus  refers  in  his  Prologue  to  the 

Satires : 

Out  with  it  Dunciad.     Let  the  secret  pass 
The  secret  to  each  fool  that  he's  an  ass. 

John  Dennis,  who  was  one  of  Pope's  worst  assailants, 
afterward  became  old,  blind,  and  so  poor  as  to  be  an 
object  of  charity,  and  Pope  then  assisted  him,  as  he  says 
in  one  of  his  poems : 

Dennis  will  confess 
Foe  to  his  pride,  but  friend  to  his  distress. 

Pope's  generosity  in  forgiving  Dennis  and  assisting 
him  is  one  of  the  most  beautiful  traits  in  his  character. 


102  Our  Book. 

In  1733,  a  benefit  was  given   to  Dennis  at  one  of  the 

theaters  and  the  prologue,  written   by  Pope  is  rich  in 

sympathy.     Having  compared  the  unfortunate  critic  to 

Belisarius,  he  thus  refers  to  his  opposition  to  the  foreign 

drama : 

Such,  such  emotions,  should  in  Britons  rise 
When  pressed  by  want  and  weakness,  Dennis  lies, 
Dennis  wlio  long  had  warred  with  modern  Huns 
Their  quibbles  routed  and  defied  their  puns. 
Stood  up  to  dash  each  vain  pretender's  hope, 
Maul  the  French  tyrant  or  pull  down  the  pope. 

One  cannot  but  notice  in  the  closing  line  a  pardonable 
pun,  leaving  a  question  which  Pope  he  desired  to  pull 
down. 

LiTEKAEY  Friendships. 

A  painful  lesson  found  in  the  history  of  Pope  is  the 
brevity  and  uncertainty  of  literary  friendships.  During 
his  youth  he  was  intimate  with  Wycherley,  who  submitted 
his  verses  to  the  young  poet  for  correction,  but  this  early 
intimacy  resulted  in  a  quarrel.  Later  on  he  was  on 
friendly  terms  with  Addison,  and  his  Messiah  first 
appeared  in  the  Spectator.  He  also  wrote  the  prologue 
for  Addison's  Cato,  but  this  harmony  was  soon  broken, 
Addison  no  doubt  being  in  fault,  and  Pope  then  made 
his  former  friend  the  subject  of  one  of  the  keenest  satires 
in  the  language.  Pope  w^as  at  one  time  an  admirer  of 
J^ady  Mary  Wortley  Montague,  with  whom  he  maintained 
a  correspondence,  and  he  afterward  induced  her  to  reside 
at  Twickenham,  but  a  quarrel  occurred  and  he  gave  vent  to 
his  irritability  in  a  lampoon  which  was  unworth}^  of  him. 

Pope's  long  intimacy  with  Bolingbroke  also  ended  in  a 
rupture,  and  it  is  said  that  the  latter  hired  Mallett  to  tra- 
duce the  poet  even  after  the  grave  forbade  a  reply.  The 
only  one  of  Pope's  literary  friendships  that  escaped  rup- 
ture was  with  Swift,  and  no  doubt  the  reason  is  found  in 
their  wide  separation.     Swift  lived  in  Dublin  and  Pope 


Dormant  Literature.  193 

iu  Loudon,  and  this  was  a  safe  distance.  Pope  knew 
Swift's  influence  and  dedicated  the  Dunciad  to  him,  no 
doubt  as  a  method  of  conciliation,  and  Swift  readily  saw 
that  peace  with  such  a  man  was  the  wisest  policy.  Hence 
tliese  two  greatest  satirists  of  the  age  never  crossed  swords. 

As  a  feature  in  literary  history  Pope  connects  the  comic 
dramatists  of  the  restoration  with  Johnson  and  his  early 
associates,  who  counted  it  a  matter  of  note  to  have  even 
caught  a  glimpse  of  the  great  satirist  when  carried  in  his 
sedan  chair  through  the  streets  of  London  —  as  was  said 
in  classic  days :  "  Virgillum  vidi  ipsi." 

Rogers  says  in  his  Table  Talk:  "When  I  first  began 
to  publish,  I  got  acquainted  with  an  elderly  person  named 
Lawless,  who  was  in  the  book  trade.  He  told  me  that  he 
was  once  walking  through  Twickenham,  accompanied  by 
a  little  boy,  and  on  the  approach  of  a  very  diminutive, 
misshapen  and  shabbilj^-dressed  person,  the  child  drew 
back,  half  afraid.  '  Don't  be  alarmed,'  I  said,  '  it  is  only 
some  poor  old  man.'  'A  ])oor  old  man,'  exclaimed  one 
who  overheard  me, '  why  that  is  Mr.  Alexander  Pope.'  " 

Dormant  Literature. 
It  is  surprising  to  notice  the  length  of  time  a  work  may 
lay  in  manuscript.  I  have  already  referred  to  Lord  Her- 
bert's Memoirs,  which  were  printed  one  hundred  and  six- 
teen years  after  the  death  of  the  author.  Pepys'  Diary 
was  published  one  hundred  and  twenty-two  years  after 
his  death,  and  to  this  may  be  added  one  of  Wycliffe's 
tracts,  which  first  appeared  in  print  in  1840,  having  lain 
in  utter  neglect  four  hundred  and  forty-four  years.  It 
is  called  the  Last  Age  of  the  Church,  and  is  a  prediction 
of  the  speedy  approach  of  the  day  of  judgment,  based  on 
the  pestilence  which  had  so  recently  ravaged  Europe. 
Like  all  other  such  prophets  Wycliffe  proved  a  failure. 


194  OuK  Book. 

Another  instance  is  found  in  the  Minutes  of  the  Tryon 
County  Committee,  which  lay  in  manuscript  for  more 
than  a  century,  when  they  were  published  by  that  inde- 
fatigable antiquary  and  historian,  J,  R.  Simms. 

In  this  connection  I  may  also  refer  to  the  vast  amount 
of  books  which  utterlj^  fail  of  publication. 

The  most  striking  instance  of  this  kind  is  fonnd  in 
Cotton  Mather's  Illustrations  of  the  Scripture.  It  forms 
six  volumes  of  closely  written  manuscript  and  has  waited 
more  than  a  century  and  a  half  for  a  publisher. 

Books  of  even  great  merit  have  sunk  hopelessly  out  of 
sight  through  change  of  taste.  Look  for  instance  at 
Young's  Kight  Thoughts  —  the  most  impressive  poem  of 
the  eighteenth  century,  but  who  hears  of  it  now  ? 

Women  of  Letters. 
I  do  not  here  refer  to  literary  women,  but  to  letter  writ- 
ers, and  in  mentioning  these  instances  I  connect  their 
names  because  they  represent  three  nations  —  France, 
England  and  America.  Yes,  reader,  Madame  De  Sevigne, 
Lady  Mary  Wortley  Montague  and  Mrs.  Harriet  E.  Fran- 
cis form  a  rare  trio  of  letter  writers,  all  inspired  by  domes- 
tic affection.  Each  wrote  letters  to  her  children  which 
were  not  fully  published  until  after  death,  and  this  point 
gives  them  marked  unity.  Mrs.  Francis'  "  By  Land  and 
Sea  "  was  intended  to  be  social  "  chats  "  with  loved  ones  at 
home,  during  her  tour  round  the  globe  in  company  with  her 
husband,  Mr.  John  M.  Francis,  editor  and  founder  of  the 
Troy  Times.  They  render  the  reader  familiar  with  the 
most  important  scenjes  in  such  a  tour,  and  viewed  in  con- 
nection with  their  illustrations  and  exquisite  finish,  form 
the  most  admirable  book  of  travels  from  woman's  pen. 

Cheerful  Authors. 
In  order  to  produce  good  books,  the  writers  should  be 


Cheerful  Authors.  195 

in  healthy,  if  not  a  buoyant,  condition.  Much  that  is 
pernicious  in  Bjron  may  be  ascribed  to  his  morbid  frame. 
Poe's  painful  tales  were  no  doubt  born  of  that  gloom 
which  so  often  obscured  his  genius.  Dickens,  on  the 
other  hand,  was  cheerful,  notwithstanding  his  domestic 
trouble.^.  Irving  was  remarkably  cheerful.  Occasionally, 
however,  he  had  long  spells  of  disinclination  to  writing, 
and  he  never  used  his  pen  till  a  genial  mood  returned. 
The  cheerfulness,  both  of  Dickens  and  Irving,  was  no 
doubt  chiefly  due  to  their  excellent  bodily  health,  and  also 
to  their  liuancial  success.  The  same  remark  will  apply 
to  Robert  Southey,  who  was  one  of  the  most  voluminous 
writers  of  his  day.  He  was  of  a  cheerful  turn,  and  bore 
the  burdens  of  life  with  great  patience. 

Our  melancholy  authors,  such  as  Dr.  Johnson  and  Cow- 
per,  were  chronic  invalids,  and  much  of  Pope's  bitterness 
may  be  ascribed  to  his  infirmities.  He  spoke  a  volume 
of  painful  experience  when  he  called  his  life  "a  long  dis- 
ease," and  the  wonder  which  many  feel  is  that  so  frail  a 
frame  could  endure  such  laborious  application. 

Johnson's  mental  disease  led  him  to  impress  the  follow- 
ing lesson  on  all  who  seek  divine  mercy: 

Pour  forth  thy  fervors  for  a  healthy  mind, 
Obedient  passions  and  a  will  resigned. 

Tom  Hood,  who  died  too  soon,  is  almost  the  only  in- 
stance of  a  humorous  writer  who  was  obliged  to  contend 
with  incessant  physical  suffering.  Speaking  of  Southey, 
who  labored  till  he  was  an  old  man,  we  note  the  contrast 
between  him  and  his  brother-in-law  Coleridge,  a  large  part 
of  whose  writings  suggest  a  dark  undercurrent  of  misery — 
the  utterance  of  a  blighted  life,  and  genius  paralyzed  by 
an  intoxicating  drug. 

Wordsworth  gives  us  several  very  fine  illustrations  of 
cheerfulness  amid  age  and  poverty.     One  of  these  is  his 


196  OuK  Book. 

friend  Mathew  and  another  is  tlie  old  leech  gatherer  of 
the  moor.  The  last  occurs  in  his  poem  called  Resolution 
and  Independence,  and  reader,  I  have  thought  that  this 
title  is  worthy  of  your  adoption  as  a  rule  of  life. 

There  exists  in  many  gifted  youth  before  they  pass  what 
may  be  termed  the  vealy  state,  a  tendency  to  diseased  imagi- 
nation, which  finds  utterance  in  melancholy  verse.  Even 
Keats  felt  the  danger  of  such  an  influence,  and  how  pain- 
fully does  lie  refer  to  himself  in  the  preface  to  Endy- 
mion  :  "  The  imagination  of  a  boy  is  healthy  and  the  ma- 
ture imagination  of  a  man  is  healthy,  but  there  is  a  space 
of  life  between  in  which  the  sonl  is  in  a  ferment,  the 
character  undecided  and  the  way  of  life  uncertain,  and 
tbence  proceeds  mawkishness  and  all  the  thousand  bitters 
which  those  must  taste  who  go  over  the  following  pages." 

Reader,  if  you  pursue  literature,  let  mental  health  be 
maintained.  It  is  a  great  mistake  to  imagine  sickly  sen- 
timentality to  be  a  mark  of  genius. 

Stay-at-  home  Tourists. 

Samuel  Purchas  was  a  London  clergyman  who  never 
left  the  shores  of  England.  He  had  a  great  desire  to  see 
foreign  parts,  but  being  unable  to  do  so,  he  traveled  by 
the  use  of  such  authorities  as  were  accessible.  The  study 
of  foreign  lands  through  other  men's  narratives,  formed 
the  amusement  of  his  life,  and  led  him  to  write  his  Pil- 
grimage. The  last  volume  was  published  only  three  years 
before  his  death,  which  took  place  in  1628. 

Purchas' Pilgrimage  has  some  points  of  peculiar  interest, 
one  of  which  is  that  it  was  while  Coleridge  was  reading  it 
that  he  had  that  strange  series  of  visions  called  Kubla  Khan. 
Purchas  set  a  good  example,  and  it  has  been  followed  by 
a  vast  number  of  stay-at-home  tourists,  who  enjoy  foreign 
scenes  without  the  sufferings  and  dangers  that  accompany 


Scott  and  Kapoleon.  197 

travel.     His  Pilgrimage  is  now  one  of  the  curiositiea  of 
literature. 

ScoiT  AND  Napoleon. 

The  fate  of  this  pair  of  gifted  men  is  recalled  by  the  fact 
that  the  15th  August  is  their  birthday,  Scott  being  the 
younger  by  two  years.  Each  possessed  immense  brain  power 
with  sufficient  physical  strength  to  sustain  it.  It  is  not  easy 
to  establish  a  table  of  proportions  which  will  illustrate  the 
varied  endowment  of  this  nature.  Some  persons  are 
reckoned  to  have  a  ten-man  power,  while  others  are 
reckoned  as  high  as  one  hundred.  These  statements  are 
highly  Suggestive,  but  they  are  of  a  general  nature,  and 
cannot  be  reduced  to  figures.  But  if  we  have,  as  a  given 
point,  perception,  judgment,  energy,  courage  and  intel- 
lectual gifts  generally  sufficient  to  endow  ten  men,  all  con- 
centrated in  one  strong  body  and  fixed  on  one  great  pur- 
pose, a  proportionate  degree  of  mastery  must  be  obtained. 
Let  the  rate  of  concentration  be  increased  and  the  con- 
quest will  be  greater,  but  when  these  powers  give  way 
the  collapse  will  be  in  proportion.  Thus  was  it  with  the 
pair  referred  to,  both  having  been  vastly  elevated  above 
their  race  in  the  scale  which  I  have  mentioned,  and  hence 
the  points  of  resemblance,  as  well  as  those  of  contrast, 
are  striking  and  instructive. 

His  famous  Utterances. 
Napoleon,  though  not  utterly  destitute  of  imagination, 
made  no  display  of  it.  Those  grandiloquent  speeches 
which  writers  enjoying  his  patronage  put  into  his  moutli, 
are  fine  in  point  of  sound,  but  reall}'-  mean  nothing.  On 
the  Alps  it  is  "  The  eagle  your  guide,"  while  at  the  pyra- 
mids it  is  "  Soldiers,  forty  centuries  are  looking  down 
upon  you."  These  are  pretty  utterances,  but  are  not 
true  to  nature,  though  they  are  true  to  P"'rench  rhetoric. 


198  OuK  Book. 

Napoleon  may  have  enconrai^ed  this  publication  for  effect, 
just  as  he  is  said  to  have  had  dispatchea  written  for  the 
occasion,  describing  the  tactics  at  certain  victories.  For 
instance,  it  is  now  affirmed  that  the  description  of  the 
echelon  movement  which  decided  the  day  at  Marengo  was 
an  after-thought  neatly  described  by  an  accomplished 
writer. 

It  may  be  remarked  that  successful  military  leaders  are 
seldom  imaginative,  "Washington,  Wellington,  Grant  and 
Sheridan  being  examples.  Still  an  imaginative  man  may 
be  a  good  soldier,  as  is  shown  by  Korner  and  others  of 
modern  days,  as  well  as  by  the  troubadours  of  chivalry. 
Scott  would  have  made  a  good  soldier  had  he  been  put 
into  mounted  service,  for  his  lame  leg  forbade  any  other. 
While  visiting  Paris  after  the  battle  of  Watei'loo  the  czar 
of  Russia,  to  whom  he  was  presented,  mistook  him  for  a 
wounded  veteran, and  asked  him  where  he  received  his  hurt. 

The  principal  difference  between  these  giants  was  that 
tlie  one  marshalled  men  in  the  field  while  the  other  mar- 
shalled them  to  the  imagination.  The  one  subjugated  na- 
tions by  the  power  of  the  sword,  the  other  subjugated  the 
world  of  literature  by  the  power  of  the  pen.  Both  were 
bold  in  their  plans,  even  to  temerity,  and  by  assuming 
unparalleled  risks  came  to  ruin.  Bonaparte  reached  su- 
preme power  at  an  earlier  time  in  life  than  Scott,  but 
sooner  reached  his  collapse,  and  in  point  of  age  died  much 
earlier ;  but  their  reigns  were  about  the  same,  in  duration, 
the  extent  being  nearly  twenty  years. 

Napoleon  was  autocrat  of  France  as  soon  as  he  returned 
from  Egypt,  and  Scott  was  at  the  head  of  literature  from 
the  date  of  the  Lady  of  the  Lake  until  three  years  be- 
fore he  died.  Abbottsford  was  a  throne  occupied  by  con- 
quering genius,  and  even  the  house  in  Edinburgh  was 
also  worthv  of  that  name.     One  of  the  most  devout  of 


Scott  and  Napoleon.  199 

all  admiring  subjects  —  himself  a  genius  —  confesses 
standing  by  the  hour  near  the  latter  watching  for  a 
glimpse  of  Sir  Walter.  This  man  was  Hugh  .Miller,  who 
was  then  a  poor  stone  cutter,  and  who  thus  bore  his  trib- 
ute to  the  great. 

Their  schemes  were  not  dissimiLir  —  family  aggran- 
dizement being  the  main  idea.  JMapoleon  exalted  each  of 
his  brothers  and  also  his  brothers-in-law,  while  Scott  ob- 
tained a  commission  in  the  army  both  for  his  son  and  his 
brother,  together  with  a  berth  in  the  civil  service  for  his 
other  son,  and  if  there  had  been  a  score  of  additional 
dependants  they  might  have  been  promoted.  In  point  of 
self-confidence  there  was  great  similarity.  Napoleon 
never  permitted  defeat  to  form  a  part  of  his  plans,  and 
when  the  fatal  invasion  of  Russia  was  projected  he  re- 
fused to  listen  to  expostulation.  Tlras  also  with  Scott  — 
failure  never  seemed  possible.  lie  had  won  success  like 
that  of  enchantment,  and  one  of  his  last  acts  before  in- 
solvency w^as  to  add  another  tract  of  land  to  his  enor- 
mous estate.  Failure  came  on  both  in  the  midst  of  most 
dazzling  success. 

While  death  held  its  way  around  them,  each  seemed 
expectant  to  live  forever.  The  soldier  marched  over  the 
ruins  of  kingdoms,  while  the  author  summoned  the  dead 
to  new  life  on  his  page,  but  each  of  them  was  planning 
schemes  of  the  most  evanescent  character.  How  strange 
it  seems  that  men  of  such  penetration  should  only  follow 
the  general  crowd  in  the  old  experience  of  human  destiny. 
Both  had  the  empty  show  of  great  success,  and  both 
fought  well  against  their  fate,  but  having  begun  wrong, 
their  first  error  gathered  strength  with  time  until  it  led 
to  hopeless  ruin. 

Conscience. 

Each  of  these  men,  though  thoroughly  worldly,  showed 


200  Our  Book. 

at  times  tlic  power  of  conscience.  After  Napoleon  had 
been  banished  to  St.  Helena,  and  had  time  for  reflection, 
the  murder  of  the  Due  D'Enghien,  which  is  the  greatest 
stain  on  his  character,  seemed  to  awaken  distress,  and  he 
frequently  sought  to  extenuate  the  crime.  In  like  man- 
ner Scott's  hours  of  misfortune  were  harrowed  by 
the  remembrance  of  his  anger  against  his  miserable 
brother  Daniel  to  whom  I  sliall  refer  hereafter. 

Scott  like  Napoleon  was  insatiably  ambitious  and  even 
before  Abbottsford  was  occupied  he  planned  a  still  greater 
elevation.  Lockhart  thus  speaks  of  a  memorable  night 
when  he  accompanied  the  author  to  the  tower  —  the  build- 
ing- beinff  then  unfinished. 

Nothing  could  ba  more  lovely  than  the  panorama;  the  Tweed 
winding  and  sparkling  beneath  our  feet  and  the  distant  ruins  of 
Melrose  a])pearing  in  the  delicious  moonlight  as  if  carved  out  of 
alabaster.  The  poet  leaning  over  the  battlement  seemed  to  hang 
over  the  beautiful  vision  as  if  he  had  never  seen  it  before.  "If 
I  live,"  he  exclaimed,  "I  will  build  me  a  higher  cower  and  a 
more  spacious  platform." 

In  this  uttei'ance  one  beholds  the  same  ambition,  which 

under  another  form  of  development,  led  the  Corsican  to 

Wade  through  slaughter  to  a  throne, 
And  shut  the  gates  of  mercy  on  mankind. 

Napoleon  probably  had  little  moral  education.  A 
Corsican  home  could  have  offered  but  few  advantages, 
and  at  seventeen  he  was  a  cadet  at  a  military  school.  But 
little  was  to  be  expected  of  one  trained  to  a  militaiy  life 
at  a  time  of  such  general  violence.  Scott  on  the  other 
hand  was  educated  in  a  land  of  piety,  and  the  influences 
which  surrounded  his  childhood  were  of  a  purifying  and 
elevating  character.  Hence  more  is  to  be  expected  of 
him,  nor  is  it  expected  in  vain.  He  was  morally  superior, 
and  that  too  in  a  very  great  degree. 

Domestic  life  is  one  of  the  great  cultivators  of  the 


Johnson.  201 

heart.  This  Scott  possessed,  but  not  Napoleon.  The 
latter  was  childless  and  almost  homeless,  for  what  home 
is  there  in  palaces  and  camps?  It  is  remarkable  that 
after  Napoleon  was  banished  to  St.  Helena  he  found  in 
the  society  of  the  English  family  at  the  "  Briars"  a  new 
experience  —  domestic  life.  A  bouncing  girl  used  to  sit 
on  his  lap,  pull  his  ears  and  greet  him  with  her  tiny 
kisses,  and  thus  developed  those  feelings  which  are  iden- 
tified with  home  life.  I  have  called  Napoleon  "  childless." 
True,  he  had  a  son,  but  he  was  then  engrossed  with  war. 
Before  the  babe  was  a  year  old  the  invasion  of  Russia 
began,  and  during  the  ensuing  troubles  the  queen  fled  to 
her  father,  and  Napoleon  never  again  saw  mother  or  child. 

Contrast    of  Burial. 

The  burial  of  Napoleon  in  Paris  in  1840  was  one  of 
the  grandest  pageants  which  that  city  ever  saw,  and  such 
was  its  imposing  character  that  it  was  presented  as  a 
dramatic  spectacle  on  the  boards  of  the  Bowery  Theater. 
Amid  the  thunders  of  artillery  and  the  gaze  of  thousands 
who  were  entranced  by  the  majesty  of  the  scene  the 
grand  array  of  veterans  laid  the  dead  emperor  in  Les 
Invalides.  The  funeral  of  Sir  Walter  Scott,  on  the  con- 
trary, was  simple  in  the  extreme,  although  the  attendance 
was  great,  the  procession  of  carriages  being  a  mile  in 
length.  The  old  servants  of  the  family  asked  the  privi- 
lege of  bearing  the  remains,  and  it  was  granted  them. 
They  bore  the  coffin  to  the  hearse,  and  from  the  hearse 
to  the  grave,  and  amid  the  mourning  multitude  it  was 
laid  by  the  side  of  his  wife  in  Dryburgh  Abbey.  It  will 
be  some  time  before  the  15th  of  August  will  give  the 
world  an  equal  pair. 

Samuel  Johnson. 

This  once  popular  author  has  not  been  much  read  since 
26 


202  Que  Book. 

his  death  —  which  took  place  more  than  a  century  ago  — 
and  he  is  now  chiefly  known  through  Boswell,  wlio  is  also 
falling  out  of  notice.  In  fact,  Johnson  is  now  little  bet- 
ter than  a  tradition  of  genius,  learning  and  sorrow.  His 
prose  died  soon  after  its  author,  and  of  his  poetry  all  that 
is  held  in  common  parlance  is  a  couplet  on  the  Vanity  of 
Human  Wishes.  Hence  had  it  not  been  for  Boswell,  the 
lexicographer  might  have  been  utterly  forgotten. 

Boswell  was  the  Johnsonian  chatterbox,  and  though  a 
respectable  lawyer,  was  in  some  points  the  weakest  man 
ever  immortalized  in  literature,  but  at  the  same  time  he 
was  the  best  biographer  the  world  ever  saw.  He  was  de- 
termined at  the  beginning  of  his  acquaintance  with  John- 
son to  allow  nothing  to  break  their  friendship.  This,  in- 
deed, was  his  chief  capital  as  a  society  man,  and  hence  he 
submitted  to  Johnson's  irritable  and  overbearing  temper. 
The  gratification  of  his  vanity  compensated  for  occasional 
humiliation,  and  he  repaid  his  surly  friend  with  such  ad- 
ulation that  it  conquered  rudeness  —  as  Milton  says: 

Smoothing  the  raven  down 
Of  darkness  till  it  smiled. 

Boswell  was  only  twenty-three  when  he  first  met  the 
great  author.  He  went  to  London  with  a  desire  to  see 
"Dictionary  Johnson,"  and  their  friendship  was  begun 
with  that  sacrifice  of  nationality  which  renders  the  biog- 
rapher contemptible.  He  knew  that  Johnson  disliked  the 
Scotch,  and  hence,  when  the  desired  introduction  was 
about  to  take  place  he  said,  "  Don't  tell  him  where  I  come 
from."  The  friend,  however,  roguishly  added,  "from 
Scotland."  Boswell  replied,  "  Mr.  Johnson,  I  do  come 
from  Scotland,  but  I  can't  help  it."  How  utterly  un- 
worthy he  thus  proved  himself  of  that  noble  nation  1 

Johnson  was  then  fifty-five.  After  the  much-desired 
acquaintance  had  been  formed,  Boswell  made  the  tour  oi 


Johnson.  203 

Europe  and  tben  established  himself  in  his  profession  at 
Edinburgh.  He  soon  cherished  the  purpose  of  writing 
Johnson's  life,  and  by  adroit  toadying  became  a  special 
favorite.  He  visited  London  as  often  as  possible,  and 
made  the  most  of  his  opportunity  of  seeing  Johnson,  tak- 
ing notes  of  all  that  was  said  and  done  in  sucl»  lounions- 

On  close  examination  it  is  found  that  BoswelTs  visits 
to  London  during  the  twenty-one  years  which  elapsed 
prior  to  Johnson's  death,  made  an  aggregate  of  two  hun- 
dred and  seventy-six  days,  and  yet  the  personal  interest 
is  kept  up  so  vividly  that  it  seems  as  though  lie  w&s  there 
most  of  the  time.  This  is  done  by  interweaving  anec- 
dotes obtained  from  others,  and  also  by  letters  and  de- 
lightful gossip,  such  as  are  found  in  no  other  volume. 

After  ten  years'  acquaintance,  lie  announced  his  inten- 
tion of  writing  the  biography,  but  eleven  additional  years 
elapsed  before  Johnson's  death  rendered  the  task  ])racti- 
cable.  Seven  years  more  were  occupied  in  getting  the 
work  before  the  public,  and  Boswell  was  then  fifty-one. 
Only  live  years  were  added  for  the  enjoyment  of  his  suc- 
cess. 

Boswell  considered  his  greatest  achievement,  next  to 
the  biography,  to  be  the  tour  to  the  Hebrides.  While 
Johnson  was  in  such  demand  in  London,  Boswell  was  de- 
lighted to  think  he  had  captured  him,  and  carried  him 
through  Scotland,  where  they  beheld  the  rudest  as  well 
as  most  cultivated  society'.  This  journey  seems  the  more 
surprising  when  one  considers  Johnson's  bitter  hatred  of 
the  Scotch,  in  almost  every  point  of  view.  Boswell's 
narrative  of  the  tour  is  now  obsolete,  and  yet  it  was  once 
thought  interesting,  as  it  gave  Johnson's  sayings  and  do- 
ings, many  of  which  were  highly  grotesque.  While  walk- 
ing along  a  crooked  street  in  Edinburgh  after  nightfall, 
Boswell  (who  was  in  front)  inquired  :  "  Doctor,  can  you 


204  Our  Book. 

find  your  way?"     "Keep  on,"  was  the  reply,  "I  can 
smell  yoa  in  the  dark." 

Some  Pictures. 

Bos  well  gives  us  the  picture  of  a  Imge,  clumsy  pedant, 
whose  early  days  had  l^een  passed  in  poverty  of  a  pain- 
ful character.  Poverty  in  youth,  poverty  at  the  univer- 
sity and  poverty  in  married  life  until  he  had  reached  fifty, 
when  his  pen  yielded  a  respectable  support.  His  parents 
kept  a  petty  bookstore  in  Litchfield,  but  the  profits  were 
too  small  to  raise  them  above  meagre  poverty.  He  says 
himself  that  he  was  a  miserable  babe,  infected  with 
scrofula,  and  he  mentions  that  one  of  liis  rehitives  said 
he  would  not  have  picked  up  such  a  child  from  the 
street. 

Another  aspect  is  the  poverty-stricken  student  leaving 
the  university,  when  we  see  him  in  his  twenty-seventh 
year  marrying  the  widow  Porter,  wlio  was  forty-eight. 
Notwithstanding  this  unusual  discrepancy,  they  were 
deeply  attached,  and  after  her  death  he  remained  a  wid- 
ower. Then  we  see  this  newly-married  pair  opening  a 
boarding  school,  which  soon  failed,  and  after  which  they 
started  for  London  to  try  their  chances  in  a  great  city. 

From  his  twenty-ninth  to  liis  forty-fifth  year  Johnson 

led  the  life  of  a  bohemian,  suffering  extremes  of  want, 

such  as  are  suggested  by  some  of  his  poems,  which  are 

always  deep-toned  and   melancholy.      Of    this   time   of 

misery  no  record   is  left,  but  enough  is  known  to  show 

that  he  keenly  felt  the  truth  of  his  own  lines. 

Ptill  is  this  mournful  truth  confest 
Slow  rises  worth  by  poverty  represt, 

Under  these  circumstances  his  wife  died,  and  it  always 
seemed  an  additional  grief  that  she  could  not  have  lived 
to  shai'e  even  that  moderate  prosperity  which  he  enjoyed 
after  he  becaine  distinguished  as  "  Dictionary  Johnson." 


JoHNSoif.  205 

Looking  again  at  Boswell's  picture  we  see  Johnson  in 
his  widower  establishment,  wliicli  included  two  women 
and  a  servant.  One  of  the  former  was  a  poverty-stricken 
daughter  of  a  family  friend,  and  the  other  (Mrs.  Wil- 
liams), in  addition  to  poverty,  suffered  from  blindness. 
Connected  with  this  establishment  was  the  poor  physician, 
Levett,  who  had  rooms  and  a  living  and  was  deeply  be- 
loved and  tenderly  mourned  by  his  patron. 

His  social  Life. 
A  more  agreeable  feature  is  the  social  side  of  Johnson's 
life,  including  his  literary  friendships  and  the  famous 
club  of  which  he  was  the  leader  —  where  Burke,  Gold 
smith  and  Reynolds  were  among  his  admirers.  Bos  well 
also  opens  us  to  the  palatial  abode  of  Thrale,  where  John- 
son is  the  lion  of  many  a  social  scene,  though  Mrs.  Thrale 
often  chafes  under  his  rude  speech  and  clumsy  manners. 
Here  it  is  that  Boswell  seems  in  his  clement,  since  it  en- 
ables him  to  indulge  in  that  gossip  which  is  his  delight. 
Then  the  picture  changes.  Thrale  dies,  and  an  alienation 
between  his  widow  and  the  author  is  the  natural  result. 
How  sad  seems  the  utterance  of  the  latter :  "  I  went  to 
Streatham,  but  there  was  no  Thrale." 

Mortality  of  Friends. 
As  Johnson  advanced  in  life  his  best  friends  were  re- 
moved by  death,  awakening  many  a  touching  lament. 
In  addition  to  the  loss  of  Thrale  may  be  mentioned  the 
death  both  of  Garrick  and  Goldsmith,  and  also  poor, 
blind  Mrs.  Williams.  To  these  was  added  the  loss  of 
Levett,  the  physician  of  the  poor,  whose  death  was  so 
deeply  felt  that  it  awoke  a  poetic  tribute.  Along  with 
this  record  of  mortality  one  is  led  to  notice  Johnson's 
prolonged  and  incurable  fear  of  death,  which  at  last 
shrouded  him  with  gloom.     This  was  partially  due  to  his 


206  OuK  Book. 

iiatuial  melancliuly  and  partially  to  the  dark  and  errone- 
ous nature  of  liis  religion. 

As  he  grew  old  his  constitution  failed  and  the  dropsy- 
set  in.  His  fear  of  death  intensified  the  misery  of  his 
condition,  and  thinking  his  surgeon  too  reluctant  in 
using  the  knife,  he  exclaimed  :  "  You  fear  to  give  me 
pain,  for  which  I  care  little.  It  is  life  that  1  want." 
Carrying  out  this  idea  he  actually  opened  one  of  his 
bloated  limbs,  hoping  to  find  relief,  and  when  this  was 
discovered,  he  said:  "I  would  give  one  of  these  legs  for 
a  year  or  more  of  comfortable  life." 

A  few  days  before  liis  death,  at  the  urgent  request  of 
a  friend,  he  made  his  will,  leaving  an  annuity  to  his  faith- 
ful servant,  Francis  Barber,  to  whom  he  said  :  "  Francis, 
remember  you  have  a  soul  to  save."  He  also  gave  his 
physician  an  injunction  to  "  remember  his  need  of  a  Sav- 
iour." On  the  13tli  of  December,  1784,  a  number  of  his 
friends  were  present,  and  tliey  all  saw  that  dissolution 
was  momently  expected.  A  young  lady  called  and  asked 
the  dying  man's  blessing,  and  he  feebly  replied,  "  God 
bless  you ! "  soon  after  which  he  expired,  being  then  in 
his  seventy-sixth  year.  His  death  made  a  deep  sensation 
in  London,  and  the  interment  was  in  Westminster  Abbey. 

His  WOKKS. 

No  one  now  is  expected  to  read  Johnson,  but  every  one 
should  know  something  of  him  who  held  such  distinction 
in  the  literary  world  a  century  ago.  His  Rambler  is  a 
collection  of  heavy  essays.  His  tragedy  of  Irene,  though 
its  publication  brought  some  profit,  proved  a  failure  when 
presented  on  the  stage  by  Garrick,  and  is  now  foi'gotten. 
His  Lives  of  the  Poets  is  interesting  only  to  those  who 
wish  to  make  literary  research.  His  dictionary  is  super- 
seded.    His  poems,  though  powerful,  are   unattractive. 


BOSWKLL    AND    GiBBON.  207 

Ilis  Rasselas  is  full  of  wisdom,  but  is  exceedingly  dull, 
and  even  his  criticisms  on  Shakespeare,  which  are  liis  best 
productions,  are  little  known.  His  Latinized  style  was 
very  injurious  because  it  was  imitated  by  those  who  could 
not  equal  its  power,  and  it  did  much  to  impair  the  influ- 
ence which  Addison  had  so  admirably  exerted. 

Notwithstanding  all  this,  however,  Johnson  made  a 
beneficial  as  well  as  an  enduring  mark  on  the  literary 
world.  He  was  the  first  man  that  rose  from  the  lowest 
conditions  of  bohemian  life  to  the  front  rank  of  society 
solely  by  learning  and  ability,  and  was  indeed  the  first 
writer  that  made  the  British  public  feel  that  genius  was 
higher  than  rank,  an  instance  of  which  is  found  in  his 
letters  to  Lord  Chesterfield.  His  dictionary,  the  work  of 
eight  years,  was  the  first  that  was  worthy  of  a  name,  and 
it  prepared  the  way  for  greater  efforts. 

BOSWELL  AND  GiBBON. 

There  is  a  noticeable  parallel  between  these  two  authors, 
both  of  whom  prosecuted  through  the  best  part  of  their 
lives  a  great  task,  which  they  were  allowed  to  finish,  and 
then  died,  after  brief  fruition.  The  two  most  important 
publications  of  the  London  press  during  the  last  part  of 
the  eighteenth  century  were  Gibbon's  Homo  and  Boswell's 
Johnson.  The  first  was  issued  in  1788,  and  the  latter 
three  years  afterward  —  each  author  being  then  fifty- 
one.  Both  died  in  London  —  Gibbon  being  fifty-seven 
and  Boswell  a  year  younger. 

Those  wlio  read  Boswell's  Johnson,  must,  in  order  to 
appreciate  the  work,  enter  fully  into  that  man-worship 
with  which  it  is  imbued.  The  sole  idea  seems  to  be, 
"  Johnson  is  great,  and  Boswell  is  his  prophet."  To 
properly  read  such  a  work,  one  must  remember  that  there 
can  be  no  ti-ifle  so  small  that  the  name  of  Johnson  does 


208  Cue  Booit. 

not  make  it  important.  Those  who  take  this  view  of  the 
subject  find  Boswell's  Johnson  one  of  the  most  delightful 
biographies  in  the  world. 

Boswell's  lotteky  Ticket. 
One  of  Boswell's  weaknesses  was  a  love  of  lottery  gam- 
ing. While  preparing  the  biography  for  the  press,  he 
was  much  in  need  of  money,  and  this  led  him  to  try  the 
chances  of  a  prize,  but  he  was  grievously  disappointed. 
This  was  the  more  annoying,  since  a  ticket  bought  in  the 
same  office  the  same  day  and  for  the  same  price,  drew 
£5,000.  Boswell  wrote  the  following  account  to  Malone, 
the  Shakespearian  critic,  dated  February  10,  1791  : 

I  bought  my  ticket  at  Nicholson's,  and  paid  £16  8s  for  it. 
That  very  evening  I  learned  from  an  advertisement  that  a  ticket 
sold  at  the  same  office  for  £16  8s  had  drawn  £5, 000.  The  number  was 
mentioned  in  the  advertisement.  I  had  sealed  up  my  own  num- 
ber without  looking  at  it,  for  I  liad  resolved  not  to  know  what  it 
was  until  after  the  drawing,  in  order  to  avoid  any  shock  at  a  blank. 
This  advertisement  made  me  highly  elated,  but  on  opening  the 
envelope  I  saw  tiiat  mine  was  not  the  lucky  number.  O,  could  I 
get  but  a  few  thousands  on  a  credit  for  a  few  years,  what  a  differ- 
ence would  it  make  on  my  state  of  mind,  I  am  sorry  to  add  that 
your  own  ticket  has  also  drawn  a  blank. 

Boswell  had  invested  a  sum  equal  to  $120,  while  Ma- 
lone's  ticket  cost  half  as  much.  Neither  of  tliem  was  in 
a  condition  to  lose,  and  yet  their  funds  went  to  swell  the 
profits  of  the  dealers,  and  this  has  been  the  common  fate 
of  all  who  pursue  gaming  in  any  shape. 

Burns. 
Header,  having  thus  briefly  viewed  the  conflicts  and 
the  sorrows  of  educated  genius,  let  us  now  by  way  of 
contrast  ramble  through  the  leading  incidents  in  the  life 
of  the  peasant  bard.  His  birthday  was  January  25,  1759 
—  wben  as  lie  says  :  "  't  was  then  a  blast  of  Janwar  win, 
blew  hansel  on  Rubin.*'  This  occurred  in  a  clay-built 
cottage  at  Alloway.     Passing  on  to  his  sixth  year  he  was 


Burns.  209 

sent  with  liis  brother  Gilbert  to  a  neighboring  school. 
He  says  "  tlie  earliest  compositions  in  which  I  took 
pleasure  were  the  Vision  of  Mirza,  and  the  hymn  by  the 
same  writer,  How  are  Thy  Servants  Blest,  O  Lord.  The 
first  two  books  I  ever  read  were  the  Life  of  Hannibal 
and  the  Life  of  Sir  William  Wallace." 

Ilis  mind  was  at  this  time  imbued  with  the  witch-lore 
of  the  country  to  such  a  degree  that  as  he  says  "  he  could 
not  for  many  yeavs  afterward  move  about  at  night  with- 
out keeping  a  sharj)  lookout  in  suspicions  places." 

FOURTEENTH   TEAR. 

Kobin,  who  has  already  made  some  rhymes,  becomes 
ploughman  on  his  father's  farm  and  falls  in  love  with  a 
lass  who  assisted  in  reaping,  in  whose  praise  he  writes  his 
first  song,  beginning  O  Once  I  Loved  a  Bonny  Lass. 

The  farm  proves  unprofitable  and  the  family  is  obliged 
to  seek  another  place.  Burns  writes  My  Father  was  a 
Farmer  and  It  was  on  Lammas  Night.  He  now  read 
some  reputable  authors,  which  gave  him  an  idea  of  the 
world  of  literature. 

TWENTIETH    YEAR. 

His  brother  Gilbert  says  this  was  the  happiest  year  in 
the  record  of  the  family,  which  included  the  two  brothers, 
their  three  sisters  and  their  parents.  Burns  wrote  John 
Barleycorn,  My  Nannie  O  and  some  other  of  his  most 
sprightly  songs. 

TWENTY-THIRD   TEAR. 

Burns  had  established  a  social  club  which,  no  doubt, 
led  him  to  his  fatal  habit  of  drinking.  He  left  home, 
working  for  a  flax  dresser,  and  became  so  despondent 
that  he  wrote  his  father  that  he  was  willing  to  leave  the 
world.  The  reason  for  this,  no  doubt,  was  in  that  first  ruin- 
ous error  of  his  life,  the  paternity  of  an  illegitimate  child. 
27 


210  Our  Book. 

twenty-fifth  year. 
Had  began  a  commonplace  book,  and  started  the  record 
of  his  thoughts,  which  were  still  more  saddened  by  the 
death  of  his  father,  whom  he  portrays  in  the  Cotter's 
Saturday  Night.  The  family  is  evicted  and  most  of  its 
property  seized.  Hence  they  seek  a  cheaper  home  on  a 
"cold  uphmd  farm."  After  the  faihire  of  two  successive 
crops  the  poet  returned  to  iiis  rhymes,  and  his  soured 
frame  is  indicated  by  Holy  Willie's  Prayer  and  some 
other  discreditable  utterances. 

TWENTY-SIXTH    YEAR. 

He  still  continued  to  help  the  family  by  farm  labor, 
but  found  so  much  time  for  writing  that  this  may  be 
considered  the  most  active  jDeriod  of  his  life.  It  brought 
the  Cotter's  Saturday  Night,  Halloween,  Lines  to  a 
Mouse,  Death  and  Dr.  Hornbook  and  other  of  his  best 
productions. 

TWENTY-SEVENTH  YEAR. 

This  was  a  very  eventful  year,  since  his  poems  appeared 
in  a  small  volume  issued  in  Kilmarnock  by  subscription. 
Burns  wanted  money  to  obtain  passage  to  the  "West 
Indies,  and  he  devoted  part  of  the  proceeds  to  this  pur- 
pose, but  the  intervention  of  a  friend  led  to  a  change  of 
purpose.  This  year  Alary  Campbell,  his  Highland  Mary, 
died,  and  he  wrote  the  Gloomy  Night  is  Gathering  Fast. 
At  this  time,  however,  he  was  cheered  by  the  sale  of  his 
book  and  the  encouragement  to  visit  Edinburgh  for  the 
purpose  of  getting  out  another  edition.  He  was  received 
with  great  favor,  and  at  this  time  Walter  Scott  saw  him, 
an  account  of  which  is  given  in  another  place.  The  new 
edition  was  3,000  copies,  and  its  proceeds  were  £500, 
equal  to  $2,500,  but  money  was  then  worth  thrice  its 
present  value.     One-third  of  this  amount  4ie  gave  to  his 


Burns.  211 

brother  to  aid  the  family,  and  the  remainder  was  devoted 
to  leasing  and  fitting  up  a  farm  for  himself,  having 
already  married  Jean  Armour,  and  thus  restoring  her 
reputation. 

TIIIRTIETn  TEAR. 

Fails  at  farming  and  is  appointed  exciseman.  No 
doubt  the  constant  intercourse  with  whisky-dealers 
increased  his  already  destructive  habits.  He  attended 
the  great  drinking  contest  for  the  whistle,  and  his  con- 
vivial habits  led  to  snch  reaction  that  he  complained  of 
"  a  horrid  hypochondria  pervading  body  and  soul."  Not- 
withstanding this  bad  influence,  he  wrote  this  year  To 
Mary  in  Heaven. 

THIRTY-FIRST    TEAR. 

Having  given  up  his  farm  he  hired  part  of  a  house  in 
Dumfries  and  joined  the  volunteers.  Tarn  O'Shanter 
was  written  at  this  time  and  was  the  last  of  his  long 
pieces.  His  popularity  was  then  so  great  that  more  than 
one  hundred  of  his  lyrics  were  published  in  the  collection 
called  Scottish  Melodies. 

THIRTY-FOURTH    TEAK. 

A  new  edition  of  his  poems  is  issued,  including  Scots 

Wha  Hae,  which  added  much  to  his  fame,  and  the  next 

year  another  edition  is  ordered,  which  enabled  him  to 

take  a  better  house  in  the  street  which  now  bears  his 
name. 

THIRTY-SIXTH    YEAR. 

Wrote  his  best  production,  A  Man's  a  Man  for  a'  That, 
which  is  the  noblest  utterance  of  the  Scottish  muse.  He 
then  began  to  realize  the  full  power  of  his  evil  habits,  and 
wrote  a  friend  that  the  "  stiffening  joints  of  old  age  were 
fast  coming  ovei*  his  frame." 

1796  —  THIRTY-SEVENTH    TEAR. 

In  January  seized  with  rheumatic  fever  which  left  him 


21^  OuK  Book. 

pale,  emaciated  and  so  feeble  as  to  require  help  to  rise 
from  his  chair.  In  summer  he  was  removed  to  a  rural 
abode  whence  he  issued  his  last  song  called  Fairest  Maid 
on  Devon's  Banks.  In  the  middle  of  July  he  was  brought 
back  to  Dumfries,  where  he  died  on  the  21st,  aged  thirty- 
seven  years  and  six  months.  Four  days  afterward  he  was 
buried  in  St.  Michael's  church-yard,  and  then  Scotland 
began  to  realize  its  loss. 

Later  Facts. 
Seven  years  after  Burns'  death  Wordsworth  visited  his 
grave  and  commemorated  the  event  in  the  verses  begin- 
ning : 

'Mid  crowded  obelisks  and  urns 

I  sought  the  untimely  grave  of  Burns. 

And  he  addresses  the  poet's  sons  a  touching  lesson, 

which  closes  thus : 

Let  no  mean  hope  your  souls  enslave; 
Be  independent,  generous,  brave, 
Your  father  such  example  gave 

And  such  revere, 
But  be  admonished  by  his  grave 
And  think  and  fear. 

In  1815  the  remains  of  the  poet  were  removed  from 
his  obscure  grave  and  placed  in  a  beautiful  mausoleum. 
^Nineteen  years  afterward  his  widow  was  laid  by  his  side. 
In  1844  a  Burns  festival  was  held  in  Ayr,  not  only  in 
honor  of  the  poet  but  also  to  welcome  his  two  sons,  who 
had  been  in  foreign  service.  Tlie  banquet  was  presided 
over  by  the  Earl  of  Eglinton,  and  the  speech  of  the  oc- 
casion was  by  John  Wilson,  the  Christopher  North  of 
Blackwood.  In  1859,  centenary  celebrations  were  held 
in  Britain  and  in  America,  and  on  one  of  tliese  occasions 
Beecher  delivered  one  of  his  finest  efforts. 

Scott  and  Burns. 
Walter  Scott  always  considered  it  a  fortunate  incident 


BuKNs.  213 

that  he  had  not  only  seen  Burns  but  had  received  from 
him  a  favorable  utterance.  His  description  of  this  occur- 
rence is  as  follows ; 

I  was  a  lad  of  fifteen  when  Burns  came  to  Edinburgh,  and  I 
was  highly  desirous  to  know  him.  One  day  I  was  at  Professor 
Ferguson's,  wlio  on  that  occasion  entertained  Burns  and  several 
other  literary  men,  while  we  youngsters  sat  silent.  The  only  re- 
markable thing  I  remember  about  Burns  was  the  effect  produced 
on  him  by  a  picture  representing  a  dead  soldier  —  his  dog  on  one 
side  and  his  widow  and  child  on  the  other.  Burns  seemed  much 
affected  by  the  scene,  and  actually  shed  tears.  Beneath  the  en- 
graving were  some  poetic  lines,  and  Burns  inquired  the  name  of 
the  author.  I  was  the  only  person  in  the  room  that  could  answer 
the  question,  and  Burns  rewarded  me  with  a  look  and  a  word, 
which  I  received  and  still  recollect  with  very  great  pleasure. 

Such  was  the  only  interview  between  these  distinguished 

characters,  and  how  little  could  Burns  have  imagined  that 

the  youth  whose  intelligence  he  thns  complimented  would 

become  the  greatest  author  of  his  age.     Scott  thus  de- 

cribes  the  peasant  bard  : 

His  person  was  strong  and  robust;  his  manners  rustic,  not 
clownish.  There  was  a  strong  expression  of  sense  and  shrewd- 
ness in  all  his  lineaments,  but  the  eye  alone,  I  think,  indicated 
the  poetical  character.  It  was  large  and  of  a  dark  cast  and 
glowed  (I  say  literally  gloioed)  when  he  spoke  with  feeling.  I 
never  saw  such  an  eye  in  a  human  head,  though  I  have  seen  the 
most  distinguished  men  of  my  time. 

This  is  an  interesting  picture,  since  it  presents  the  chief 
author  of  his  day,  described  by  the  greatest  author  that 
succeeded  him,  Scott  never  became  personally  acquainted 
wilh  Burns,  though  he  saw  him  occasionally  in  the  streets 
of  Edinburgh.  Scott  was  always  convinced  of  Burns' 
superiority  to  himself,  and  while  speaking  on  this  subject 
said  to  a  friend,  "  There  is  no  comparison  between  us,  and 
I  ought  not  to  be  mentioned  on  the  same  day  with  him." 
Scott  ranked  the  two  great  emotional  poets  together  in 
the  following  manner :  "  I  have  always  reckoned  Burns 
and  Byron  the  most  genuine  poetical  geniuses  of  my  time, 
and  of  a  half  century  before  me."     This  estimate  has  been 


214  OuB  Book. 

fully  confirmed  by  history.  It  may  be  said  of  Biirus  and 
Byron  tliat  although  separated  by  the  extreme  of  social 
difference,  they  now  occupy  the  same  rank  as  masters  of 
the  heart.  'No  other  writers  wield  such  power  over  the 
emotional  nature. 

A  point  of  peculiar  similarity  is  found  in  the  fact  that 
both  reached  the  same  age  —  thirty -seven  —  and  died  the 
victims  to  their  vices.  There  was  also  a  close  similarity 
in  national  origin,  the  one  being  full-blooded  in  his  Cale- 
donian birth,  while  the  other  sprang  from  a  union  be- 
tween Scottish  and  English  famihes.  Eyron's  mother 
was  Catharine  Gordon,  a  Highland  heiress,  and  a  part  of 
the  poet's  youth  was  spent  in  the  wildest  part  of  Scotland, 
which  led  to  such  effusions  as  the  following : 

I  would  I  -were  a  careless  child, 

Still  dwelliug  in  my  Highland  cave; 
Or  roaming  through  a  dusky  wild, 

Or  bounding  o'er  the  dark  blue  wave. 
The  cumbrous  pomp  of  Saxon  pride 

Accords  not  with  the  free-born  soul, 
Which  loves  the  mountain's  craggy  side, 

And  seeks  the  rocks  where  billows  roll. 

The  following  extract  is  still  stronger  in  national  char- 
acter : 

Shades  of  the  dead!  have  I  not  heard  your  voices 

Rise  on  the  night-rolling  breath  of  the  gale? 
Surely  the  soul  of  the  hero  rejoices 

And  rides  on  the  wind  in  his  own  highland  vale. 
Round  Loch  na  Garr,  while  the  stormy  wind  gathers, 

Winter  presides  in  his  fierce  icy  car; 
Clouds  there  encircle  the  forms  of  my  fathers: 

They  dwell  in  the  tempests  of  dark  Loch  na  Garr. 

Again,  when  describing  the  battle  of  Waterloo,  he  thus 
gives  a  glowing  tribute  to  Caledonia  bravery  : 

And  wild  and  high  the  Cameron's  gathering  rose. 
The  war  note  of  Lochiel,  which  Albyn's  hills 

Have  heard,  and  heard,  too,  have  her  Saxon  foes; 
How  in  the  noon  of  night  that  pibroch  thrills. 

These  quotations,  and  others  which  might  be  offered, 


Bdrns.  215 

show  that  Byron  was  at  heart  a  ScotsmaD,  and  hence  he 
and  Burns  have  a  tie  in  nationality  as  well  as  in  genius. 

Another  Interview. 

More  than  a  third  of  a  century  after  Scott  first  met 
Burns  he  entertained  one  of  the  sons  of  the  latter  at  Ab- 
bottsford,  and  the  occasion  was  one  of  special  interest. 
Scott  had  then  gone  through  his  splendid  career  of  author- 
ship and  was  broken  in  health  and  in  fortune.  He  had 
retired  from  society  and  was  living  in  seclusion,  and  this 
was  the  last  time  that  he  opened  Abbottsford  for  social 
purposes.  Lockhart,  who  was  present,  penned  a  few 
stanzas  on  the  occasion,  from  which  I  make  the  following 
extract : 

What  princely  stranger  comes, —  what  exiled  lord, 
From  the  far  East  to  Scotia's  strand  returns, 

To  stir  with  joy  the  towers  of  Abbottsford, 

And  wake  the  minstrel's  soul? — The  boy  of  Burns. 

The  children  sang  the  ballads  of  their  sires, 

Serene  among  them  sat  the  hoary  knight; 
And  if  dead  bards  have  ears  for  earthly  lyres, 

The  peasant's  shade  was  near  and  drank  delight. 

The  "hoary  knight"  was  Scott,  while  the  "peasant" 
was  Burns,  but  genius  leveled  all  distinctions  and  they 
were  one  in  the  sad  lessons  of  misfortune. 

A  Contrast. 

A  very  striking  contrast  is  found  between  Burns  and 
his  poetical  predecessor,  Allan  Ramsay,  who  had  for  many 
years  been  the  admiration  of  Scotland.  Ramsay's  best 
production,  the  Gentle  Shepherd,  though  a  very  clever 
poem,  is  tainted  with  that  snobbish  worship  of  rank 
which  then  was  so  general  througiiout  the  British  realm, 
and  if  it  be  less  prevalent  at  the  present  time,  the  change 
to  a  great  degree  is  due  to  Burns  himself.  The  Gentle 
Shepherd  represents  the  loves  of  a  shepherd  and  a  rustic 


216  Our  Book. 

maiden,  but  the  progress  of  their  attachment  is  broken 
by  a  startling  disclosure.  The  shepherd  is  found  to  be 
the  son  of  a  baronet,  who  comes  for  the  purpose  of  call- 
ing him  from  his  humble  employment  and  placing  him  in 
that  station  to  which  his  rank  is  entitled.  Then  we  have 
the  sorrows  of  the  disappointed  maid  and  their  sad  fare- 
wells, whicli,  however,  are  happily  terminated  by  another 
startling  discovery.  The  maid  herself  is  an  incognito 
member  of  a  blooded  family,  and  when  this  is  known  it 
removes  the  b-ir  to  their  union. 

Burns'  Independence. 
Bui-ns  took  a  far  loftier  position,  and  instead  of  bowing 
to  the  tyranny  of  caste  he  boldly  proclaimed  "  a  man's  a 
man  for  a'  that.''  This  tyranny  lias  been  modified  to  a 
very  great  extent  owing  to  Burns'  influence,  and  the 
Gentle  Shepherd  no  longer  expresses  a  national  sentiment. 
In  conclusion,  it  may  be  said  that  those  who  really  love 
Burns  feel  that  intense  devotion  which  overloooks  his  in- 
temperance and  other  defects,  and  who  clasp  him  the 
closer  to  their  hearts  whenever  his  faults  may  be  men- 
tioned. Like  Shakespeare,  he  shows  that  the  true  poet  is 
owned  of  all  mankind,  because  he  masters  the  heart. 

State  of  Literature. 

The  death  of  Burns  marked  the  lowest  reach  of  Brit- 
ish literature.  All  the  great  lights  had  gone  out ;  John- 
son, Gibbon  and  Hume  were  dead,  and  Burke  died 
the  next  year.  The  world  of  literature  seemed  almost 
extinct,  and  yet  what  a  new  glory  was  about  to  arise  ? 
Wordsworth,  Scott,  Moore,  Byron,  Coleridge,  Shelley  and 
Keats  were  already  in  existence,  and  some  of  the  number 
had  already  felt  the  first  movings  of  genius  —  but  how- 
ever great  their  subsequent  development  they  have 
not  eclipsed  the  peasant  bard. 


Junius.  217 

As  I  begin  this  old  but  interesting  theme  I  am  led  to 
notice  the  similarity  between  the  phenomena  of  the 
literary  and  astronomical  worlds.  Byron  speaks  of 
Churchill  as  "  one  that  blazed  the  comet  of  a  season." 
This  was  a  very  suitable  expression.  Churchill  was  for  a 
short  time  the  object  of  great  admiration.  His  biting  wit 
and  relentless  sarcasm  when  clothed  with  ringing  rhyme 
could  not  but  command  a  high  position  both  in  politics 
and  literature.  But  his  course  was  as  evanescent  as  it 
was  brilliant.  Who  hears  of  Churchill  now?  An  apos- 
tate clergyman  he  burst  from  the  obscurity  of  his  pro- 
fession, and  after  a  brief  splendor  disappeared  in  an  early 
grave. 

It  is  said  by  astronomers  that  there  are  stars  which 
suddenly  increase  in  brilliance  to  a  degree  which  suggests 
the  idea  that  they  may  be  burning  worlds,  and  which 
afterward  disappear  forever.  Such  an  instance  once 
occurred  in  the  world  of  literature.  A  resplendent  genius, 
masked  as  to  name,  suddenly  broke  forth,  commanding 
the  highest  degree  of  admiration,  and  after  exciting  the 
wrath  of  the  government  and  the  curiosity  of  two  conti- 
nents it  totally  disappeared.  More  than  a  century  has 
since  elapsed,  and  has  evoked  all  possible  scrutiny,  but  in 
vain.  The  same  shadow  from  which  lie  emerged  covers  his 
retreat,  and  all  that  can  be  said  is  that  he  was  Junius, 
and  to  this  is  added  the  defiant  motto  which  was  placed 
on  the  title  page  of  the  first  published  volume  '''■  stat 
nominis  umbra.'''' 

The  facts  surrounding  the  history  of  these  letters,  are 
as  follows:  Prior  to  the  American  revolution  the  Eng- 
lish government  had  become  exceedingly  corrupt.  It 
was  indeed  the  time  of  political  and  national  demoraliza- 
tion. The  result  was  a  series  of  blunders  which  not  only 
cost  the  nation  the  American  colonies,  but  led  to  general 
28 


218  OuK  Book. 

disgrace.  The  enero^ies  of  the  cjovernment  were  to  a 
large  degree  expended  in  prosecuting  a  noted  reformer, 
M'ho  baffled  every  attempt  to  ci'usli  him.  This  man  was 
John  Wilkes,  who  for  three  years  filled  the  British  mind 
to  a  greater  degree  than  has  ever  been  known  before  or 
since.  Wilkes  was  a  dissolute  but  highly  gifted  man,  and 
conducted  a  fiery  journal  called  the  North  Briton.  He 
was  prosecuted  by  the  government,  but  though  con- 
victed his  punishment  only  added  to  his  fame  and  power. 

At  this  time  of  weakness  and  corruption,  a  prominent 
London  editor  received  from  an  unknown  source  a  con- 
tribution of  unusual  character.  Its  style  was  elegant,  and 
indicated  greater  knowledge  of  public  affairs  than  could 
be  possessed  by  any  other  than  a  statesman,  while  that 
knowledge  was  devoted  to  tlie  vindication  of  public 
rights.  The  editor  referred  to  was  Woodfall  of  the  Pub- 
lic Advertiser;  but  who  was  the  contributor?  The  article 
was  printed  and  attracted  general  attention.  It  was  fol- 
lowed by  other  contributions,  tlie  signatures  being  varied, 
from  which  it  appeared  that  the  author  desired  to  identify 
his  most  polished  and  powerful  efforts  with  a  pen  name, 
which  was  withheld  from  others  of  less  importance. 

The  28th  April,  1767,  was  the  date  of  the  first  letter, 
and  among  other  signatures  were  Lucius,  Junius,  Bru- 
tus, no  doubt  in  honor  of  that  celebrated  Roman  patriot  in 
whom  these  names  were  united.  For  nearly  two  years 
these  various  signatni-es  were  employed,  with  the 
exception  of  one.  This  was  only  assumed  when  the 
author  felt  the  importance  of  an  unusual  effort,  and 
appeared  on  the  21st  January,  1769,  when  the  Public 
Advertiser  contained  the  first  letter  by  Junius.  In  this 
he  attacks  the  administration  in  a  manner  which  may  be 
judged  by  the  following  extract,  with  which  it  concludes : 

In  one   view   behold   a   nation   overwhelmed  with  debt;   her 


Juki  us.  219 

revenues  wasted;  her  trade  declining;  the  colonies  alienated  and 
the  administration  of  justice  made  odious.  We  are  governed  by 
counsels  from  whicli  a  reasonable  man  can  expect  no  remedy  but 
poison;  no  relief  but  death.  If  by  the  interposition  of  Providence 
it  were  possible  for  us  to  escape,  posterity  will  not  believe  tlie 
iiistory  of  tlie  present  times.  They  will  not  believe  that  their 
ancestors  could  have  survived  while  a  Duke  of  Grafton  was  prime 
minister,  a  Granby  commander  in  chief,  and  a  Mansfield  chief 
criminal  judge  of  the  Kingdom. 

Ill  another  article,  he  thus  expresses  his  views: 

Our  worthy  governors  divide  their  time  between  private 
pleasures  and  ministerial  intrigues.  Away  they  go;  one  retires  to 
his  country  house;  another  is  engaged  at  a  horse  race;  a  third  lias 

an  appointment  with  a — and  as  to  their  country,  they 

leave  her  like  a  cast-off  mistress  to  perish  under  the  diseases  they 
have  given  her." 

Loi'd  Hillsborough  he  addresses  thus : 

That  you  are  a  polite  person  is  true.  Few  men  understand  the 
little  morals  better  or  observe  the  great  ones  less  than  your  lord- 
ship. You  can  bow  and  smile  in  an  honest  man's  face  while  you 
are  picking  his  pocket.  These  are  virtues  in  a  court  in  which 
your  education  has  not  been  neglected. 

Of  the  cabinet  he  tlms  speaks  : 

While  the  fate  of  Great  Britain  is  at  stake,  these  worthy  coun- 
sellors dispute  without  decency,  advise  without  sincerity,  resolve 
without  decision,  and  leave  the  measure  to  be  executed  by  the 
man  that  voted  against  it.  The  state  is  in  disorder  and  the  phy- 
sicians consult  only  to  disagree;  opposite  medicines  are  prescribed 
and  the  last  fixed  upon  is  changed  by  the  hand  that  gives  it. 

The  attention  paid  to  these  philippics  and  the  celebrity 
they  immediately  acquired  stimulated  the  author  to  still 
grcatereffort,  and  when  the  name  of  Junius  was  adopted 
he  attained  a  finished  power  that  never  has  been  sur- 
passed. 

It  was  evident  to  Woodfall  that  his  correspondent  was 
not  only  a  man  of  highly  cultivated  intellect,  but  that  he 
had  studied  carefully  the  laws  and  the  constitution  of  his 
country  as  well  as  its  political  detail.  Woodfall  knew  too 
well  the  value  of  such  a  correspondent  to  embarrass  him 
by  the  indulgence  of  curiosity,  and  in  addition  to  this  he 
was  controlled  by  a  sense  of  honor.     Had  he  placed  a  de- 


220  Our  Book. 

tec'tive  on  the  track  he  would,  no  doubt,  have  discovered 
the  author,  but  that  discovery  would  have  cost  him  the 
distinction  of  being  the  publisher  of  Junius.  Curiosity 
however,  was  tempered  to  patience  by  the  promise  which 
Junius  extended  in  one  of  his  private  notes,  in  which  he 
says :  "Act  honorably  by  me  and  at  the  proper  time  you 
i-hall  know  me."  This  promise  was  never  fulfilled. 
Junius  ceased  to  appear  on  the  21st  of  January,  1772, 
and  the  editor  in  vain  gave  hints  in  his  paper  that  his  cor- 
respondent should  resume  his  pen.  Junius'  reply  to  these 
hints  will  be  found  in  the  latter  part  of  this  article. 

Leading  Characteristics. 

The  leading  characteristics  of  Junius  and  the  circum- 
stances of  his  position  may  be  inferred  from  his  own 
statements.  He  was  not  only,  as  has  been  said,  a  man  of 
culture  and  acquainted  with  the  constitution  and  laws  of 
his  country,  but  it  may  bo  presumed  that  he  was  also 
possessed  of  wealth ;  that  he  moved  in  the  immediate 
eii'cle  of  the  court  and  was  acquainted  with  most  of  its 
secrets.  The  first  of  these  is  evident  from  his  refusing 
an}'  participation  in  the  profits  arising  from  his  letters, 
especially  when  Woodfall  issued  them  in  book  form. 
His  reply  is :  ''  What  you  say  about  profits  is  very  hand- 
some. *  *  *  Be  assured  I  am  above  all  pecuniary 
views.  *  *  *  Make  the  most  of  it,  therefore."  To 
this  may  be  added  his  assurance  to  Woodfall,  at  an  earlier 
day,  that  in  the  event  of  the  latter's  being  subjected  to 
pecuniary  damage  by  reason  of  these  letters,  the  author 
would  not  allow  him  to  suffer.  "  Some  way  or  other," 
says  the  latter,  "  you  shall  be  reimbursed."  In  another 
place  he  adds :  "  You  may  be  satisfied  that  my  rank  and 
fortune  place  me  above  a  common  bribe." 

It  is  evident  that  the  author  had  attained  an  age  that 


JuNILS.  221 

w'oiild  allow  hiin  to  speak  from  experience  as  well  as  from 
information,  and  also  that  during  the  years  1767  to  1771 
and  part  of  1772,  he  resided  almost  constantly  in  London 
and  its  vicinity,  and  that  most  of  his  time  was  de^^^oted  to 
the  highest  order  of  politics.  It  is  also  evident  from 
these  letters  that  he  was  excitable  and  impetuous  and  was 
subject  to  strong  prejudices,  but  that  he  possessed  a  rare  in- 
dependency of  spirit,  was  attached  to  the  British  consti- 
tution, and  was  both  fearless  and  indefatigable  in  main- 
taining his  opinions.  It  is  also  evident  that  he  was  an 
advocate  for  morals,  was  an  avowed  member  of  the  Church 
of  England,  and  though  well  acquainted  with  legal  prac- 
tice was  not  a  lawyer  by  profession. 

Scope    of  Information. 

How  any  man,  not  a  member  of  government  and  hence 
interested  in  concealing  its  plans,  could  penetrate  and  ex- 
pose such  secrets  is  one  of  the  most  surprising  features 
of  this  mystery.  His  accuracy  was  extraordinary.  He 
tells  Woodfall,  at  one  time,  that  "  war  is  inevitable,  and 
that  a  squadron  of  four  ships  of  the  line  is  ordered  with 
all  possible  expedition  to  the  East  Indies."  At  another 
time  he  refers  to  a  prosecution  with  which  the  printer  was 
threatened,  and  adds  :  "  You  have  nothing  to  fear  from 
the  Duke  of  Bedford  in  case  he  should  bring  you  before 
the  House  of  Lords.  I  am  sure  I  can  threaten  him  pri- 
vately with  such  a  storm  as  would  make  him  tremble  even 
in  his  grave."  In  his  published  letter  to  the  same  Duke 
he.  tells  him  things  which  could  scarcely  be  known  outside 
the  latter'  family.  He  wrote  "Woodfall  "  That  Swinney 
is  a  dangerous  fool ;  he  had  the  impudence  to  go  to  Lord 
George  Sackville  (whom  he  had  never  before  spoken  to) 
and  to  ask  him  whether  or  no  he  was  the  author  of  Junius." 

This  statement  is  true  and  was  made  shortly  after  it 


222  Our  Book. 

had  happened,  but  how  should  Junius,  unless  he  were  Lord 
Sackville,  know  ?  For  this  reason  some  have  supposed  that 
the  mysterious  writer  was  Sackville  himself.  Another 
instance  is  found  at  the  time  when  the  prime  minister's 
friends  are  boasting  of  his  honesty  in  refusing  to  sell  a 
monopoly  in  Jamaica,  especially  as  the  would-be  buyer 
was  prosecuted  for  an  attempt  at  corruption.  Junius  ex- 
posed this  hypocrisy  by  showing  that  this  very  minister 
had  recently  been  concerned  in  the  sale  of  just  such  a 
monopoly  as  now  was  refused.  He  even  knew  the  anony- 
mous writer  in  the  Public  Advertiser,  and  says  to  Wood- 
fall,  "Your  Yeredicus  is  Mr.  Whitworth  ;  yourLycurgus 
is  Mr.  Kent,  a  young  man  of  good  parts." 

Consciousness   of  Danger. 

With  all  his  boldness  Junius  was  not  unconscious  of 
his  danger.  Indeed,  he  occasionally  refers  to  the  perils 
inseparable  from  such  a  position.  When  Sir  William 
Draper  bids  him  "  throw  off  his  mask,"  he  replies,  ''It  is 
not  necessary  that  I  should  expose  myself  to  the  resent- 
ment of  the  worst  and  most  powerful  men  in  this  country. 
Though  you  would  fight,  there  are  others  who  would 
assassinate.''''  He  also  writes  Woodfall,  "  1  must  be  more 
cautious  than  ever.  I  am  sure  I  should  not  survive  a 
discovery  three  days." 

Later  on  he  thus  addresses  the  same  man :  "  Tell  me 
candidly  whether  you  know  or  suspect  who  I  am?" 
Again,  in  another  private  note,  he  says :  "  Upon  no  ac- 
count are  you  to  write  me  until  I  give  you  notice." 
Again  :  "  Change  to  the  Somerset  Coffee-house  and  let 
no  mortal  know  the  alteration.  I  am  persuaded  that  you 
are  too  honest  a  man  to  contribute  to  my  destruction." 

Method  of  Communication. 
In  a  literary  alliance  like  that  existing  between  the 


JuNros.  223 

publisliei-  and  his  unknown  contributor,  there  must  be 
some  peculiar  method  of  communication,  and  this  was 
devised  by  the  latter.  It  is  evident  that  he  shunned  the 
post-office.  His  letters,  both  to  the  Public  Advertiser 
and  to  private  parties,  such  as  John  Wilkes,  were  all  sent 
tiirect  by  private  hand.  His  arrangements  with  Wood- 
fall  were  these  :  A  common  name  and  one  not  likely  to 
attract  attention  was  chosen  by  Junius,  and  a  place  of  de- 
posit was  indicated.  Tlie  parcels  for  Woodfall  were  con- 
veyed directly  to  him,  but  whenever  a  letter  was  sent  to 
the  unknown,  it  was  announced  in  answers  to  correspond- 
ents  by  such    signals  as  these :  "  C  —  a  letter  at  usual 

place,"    sometimes    " a   letter,"   and    then    simply, 

"  Vindex  shall  be  considered."  "  Don't  always  use  the 
same  signal,"  said  the  writer,  "  any  absurd  Latin  verse 
will  answer."  Among  those  used  were  such  expressions  as 
"  Quid  vetat  ? "  or  "  Infandum  Regina  jubes  renovare  do- 
lorem." 

During  November,  1771,  eight  of  these  signals  ap- 
peared in  the  paper,  and  each  indicated  that  a  letter  had 
been  'left  for  Junius  at  the  spot  designated.  The  names 
which  these  letters  bore  were  either  "  Mr.  William  Mid- 
dleton  "  or  "Mr.  John  Fretly,"  and  the  most  frequent 
depot  was  the  bar  of  the  Somerset  Coffee-house,  although 
Munday  Coffee-house  was  sometimes  chosen.  The  waiters 
received  appropriate  fees,  and  hence  no  better  plan  for  a 
secret  correspondence  could  be  devised.  By  what  agency 
Junius  obtained  his  parcels  from  the  coffee-house  has 
never  been  ascertained.  In  his  correspondence  with  John 
Wilkes,  the  letters  were  sent  by  a  public  messenger,  with 
directions  that  replies  should  be  left  at  Woodfall' s,  whence 
they  were  forwarded  to  the  coffee-house  in  an  enclosure 
addressed  to  either  "Middleton"  or  "Fretly,"  as  the 
choice  might  be. 


224  OuE  Book. 

It  is  evident  that  a  variety  of  schemes  were  employed 
by  his  enemies  in  hope  of  detecting  the  writer,  but  his 
extreme  vigilance  and  the  honorable  forbearance  of  his 
publisher  enabled  him  to  batfle  them.  "  Your  letter," 
says  he  in  one  of  his  private  notes,  "  was  twice  refused 
last  night,  and  the  waiter  as  often  attempted  to  see  the 
person  who  sent  for  it."  Among  other  expedients,  let- 
ters were  frequently  addressed  to  him  at  the  printing  of- 
fice, with  a  hope  of  tracking  them  up  to  their  destination. 
Hence  he  thus  says  to  Woodfall :  "  I  return  you  the  letters 
sent  yesterday.  It  is  probably  a  trap  for  me.  If  he  writes 
again,  open  his  letter,  and  if  it  contain  any  thing  worth 
knowing,  send  it  —  otherwise,  not.  Instead  of  '  C.  at  the 
usual  place,'  say  '■only  a  letter '  wlien  you  address  me  again." 

The  most  persistent  attempt  to  discover  him  was  made 
by  David  Garrick,  who  was  a  favorite  at  the  court.  For 
three  weeks  Junius,  in  every  letter  to  Woodfall,  cautioned 
him  against  this  famous  player  —  "To  deter  him  from 
meddling,  tell  him,"  says  he,  "that  I  am  aware  of  his 
practices,  and  will  be  revenged  if  he  do  not  desist.  An 
appeal  to  the  public  from  Junius  would  destroy  him." 
He  says  again  :  "  Beware  of  David  Garrick.  He  was 
sent  to  pump  you,  and  went  directly  to  Richmond  to  tell 
the  King  I  should  write  no  more."  Having  mentioned 
that  the  letters  to  the  publisher  were  sent  by  private 
hand,  it  may  be  added  that  chair-men  (as  they  were  called) 
were  generally  employed.  Once,  however,  a  tall  gentle- 
man, dressed  in  a  light  coat  and  sword,  was  seen  to  throw 
a  letter  from  Junius  into  Woodfall' s  door,  and  a  young 
man  who  followed  saw  him  enter  a  hackney  coach  and 
drive  off —  but  whether  this  man  was  Junius  himself  or 
his  messenger  is,  of  course,  uncertain. 
His  Style. 

The  style  of  Junius  is  too  latinized   to  l)e  popular  at 


Junius.  225 

the  present  day,  but  such  was  then  the  fashion.  This 
defect,  however,  is  offset  by  their  brilliant  antithesis  and 
their  overwhelming  power.  That  they  cost  a  great  deal  of 
application  is  admitted  by  the  author.  His  inferior  pro- 
ductions were  signed  variously,  and  Junius  was  only 
applied  to  those  of  highest  finish.  Thus  he  writes  to 
Woodfall :  "  As  for  Junius  I  must  wait  for  fresh  mat- 
ter, for  this  is  a  character  that  must  be  kept  up  with 
credit."  The  letter  against  Lord  Mansfield  is  accom- 
panied by  a  note  saying  :  "  I'his  has  been  greatly  labored^'' 
In  his  epistle  to  Mr.  Home  he  refers  to  himself  by 
asking :  "  What  public  questions  have  I  declined  \ 
What  villain  have  I  spared?  Is  there  no  labor  in  the 
composition  of  these  letters  V  The  most  elaborate  are 
those  to  the  Kin":  and  also  to  Lord  Mansfield.  The  most 
sarcastic  is  to  the  Duke  of  Grafton,  and  the  most  valuable 
is  that  to  the  editor  of  the  Public  Advertiser  on  the 
means  of  uniting  the  people  in  one  great  party  for  a 
common  cause. 

He  thus  expresses  to  Wilkes  the  difficulties  of  procuring 
information :  "  In  pursuing  such  enquiries  I  lie  under  a 
singular  disadvantage.  Not  venturing  to  consult  those 
who  are  qualified  to  inform  me,  I  am  forced  to  collect 
every  thing  from  books  or  common  conversation.  The 
pains  that  I  took  with  that  article  were  greater  than  I  can 
express  to  you,  yet  after  I  had  blinded  myself  M^ith  por- 
ing over  debates  and  parliamentary  history,  I  was  at  last 
obliged  to  hazard  a  bold  assertion  which  I  am  now  con- 
vinced is  true." 

Mysterious  Friendship. 

Junius  was  an  admirer  of  John  Wilkes  and  did  him 
the  honor  to  address  him  a  letter  which  led  to  a  corre- 
spondence lasting  more  than  a  year,  and  included  seven- 
teen letters  on  both  sides.     Junius  offered  Wilkes,  advice, 
29 


226  OuK  Book. 

which  the  latter  usually  followed,  and  in  several  instances 
with  great  benefit.  The  mysterious  correspondent  speaks 
thus  in  reply  to  Wilkes'  profession  of  friendship  : 

I  will  accept  as  much  friendship  as  you  can  impart  to  a  man 
•whom  you  will  assuredly  never  know.  Beside  every  personal  con- 
sideration, if  I  were  known,  I  could  no  longer  be  of  any  service 
to  the  public.  At  present  there  is  something  oracular  in  the  de- 
livery of  my  opinions.  I  speak  from  a  recess  which  no  curiosity 
can  penetrate,  and  darkness,  we  are  told,  is  one  source  of  the 
sublime.     The  mystery  of  JUNIUS  increases  his  importance. 

Having  given  Wilkes  political  advice  of  the  highest 
value,  he  adds  the  following  on  personal  bearing :  "  It  is 
your  interest  to  keep  up  dignity  and  gravity.  I  would 
not  make  myself  cheap  by  walking  the  streets  so  much 
as  you  do.''  He  also  advised  Wilkes  to  dress  well  and 
pay  better  attention  to  personal  appearance,  but  perhaps 
this  admonition  was  based  on  the  fact  that  Wilkes  was  the 
ugliest  man  that  ever  became  prominent  in  public  life. 

Reason  for   Discontinuing. 
The  last  letter  of  Junius  appeared  January  21,  1772. 
On  the  19th  of  January,  1773,  nearly  a  year  afterward, 
Woodfall  received  a  brief  note  from  the  mysterious  au- 
thor, who  writes  thus : 

I  have  seen  the  signals  thrown  out  for  your  old  correspondent. 
Be  assured  I  have  good  reasons  for  not  complying  witli  them.  In 
the  present  state  of  things  if  I  were  to  write  again  I  should  be  as 
silly  as  any  of  your  wise  aldermen.  I  meant  the  cause  and  the 
public.  Botli  are  given  up.  I  feel  for  tlie  honor  of  this  country 
when  I  see  that  there  are  not  ten  men  in  it  who  will  unite  and 
stand  together  on  any  one  question.  But  it  is  all  alike,  vile  and  con- 
temptible. You  have  never  flinched,  that  I  know  of,  and  I  shall 
always  be  glad  to  hear  of  youi  prosjierity. 

This  was  the  last  trace  of  the  great  unknown,  and  it  is 

supposed  that  the  retirement  of  Junius  was  occasioned, 

in  part,  at  least,  by  disgust  at  the  corrupt  state  of  public 

affairs,  which  he  had  vainly  attempted  to  reform.     It  is 

remarkable  that  his  last  published  letter  (to  Lord  Camden) 


Junius.  227 

should  be  totally  different  from  its  predecessors.  Instead 
of  containing  satire  and  invective,  it  is  of  a  flattering 
character.  Indeed  it  is  the  only  encomium  on  any  indi- 
vidual which  received  the  signature  of  Junius. 

Having  begun  in  bitterness  he  closed  his  career  with 
words  of  peace  and  approbation  to  the  person  addressed. 
He  had  some  time  previously  expressed  to  Wood  fall  the 
burden  and  danger  of  keeping  up  the  Junius  correspond- 
ence. "  I  doubt,"  says  he,  at  one  time,  "  whether  I  shall 
write  XLnder  this  signature.  I  am  weary  of  attacking  a 
set  of  brutes."  The  labor  involved  in  the  self-assumed 
task  must  have  been  very  great,  and  he  wrote  to  Wood- 
fall  :  "  I  want  rest  most  severely  and  am  going  to  find  it 
in  the  country  for  a  few  days."  It  is  very  evident  that 
Woodfall  supposed  Junius  to  be  a  man  of  high  rank,  and 
he  also  infei*red,  from  an  expression  in  one  of  his  private 
letters,  that  the  unknown  writer  expected  to  become  a 
member  of  the  government,  if  its  policy  should  change. 

A   FEW  EXTKACTS. 

I  shall  give  a  few  additional  extracts  from  Junius  in 
order  that  those  of  my  readers  who  have  no  time  to  read 
the  original  may  form  an  idea  of  his  style.  Here  is  some- 
thing on  the  press : 

It  remains  for  me  to  speak  on  the  liberty  of  the  press.  The  dar- 
ing spirit  by  which  these  letters  are  supposed  to  be  distinguisiied 
requires  that  something  should  be  said  in  their  defence.  The  lib- 
erty of  the  press  is  our  only  resource.  It  may  be  a  security  to  the 
king  as  well  as  to  his  people.  The  constant  censure  and  admoni- 
tion of  the  press  would  have  corrected  the  conduct  of  Charles  the 
First,  would  have  prevented  a  civil  war  and  saved  him  from  an 
ignominious  death. 

To  the  Duke  of  Grafton  (prime  minister) : 

If  nature  had  given  you  an  understanding  qualified  to  keep 
pace  with  the  wishes  and  principles  of  your  heart,  she  would  have 
made  you  perhaps  the  most  formidable  minister  that  was  ever  em- 
ployed to  ruin  a  free  people.  We  owe  it  to  the  bounty  of  Provi- 
dence that  the  completest  depravity  of  tlic  heart  is  sometimes 


228  OuK  Book. 

united  with  a  confusion  of  miud  which  counteracts  the  most  fav- 
orite principles  and  makes  tlie  same  man  treacherous  without  art, 
and  a  hypocrite  without  deceiving.  It  is  not,  indeed,  tlie  least 
of  the  thousand  contradictions  which  attend  you,  that  a  man 
marked  by  the  grossest  violations  of  ceremony  and  decorum 
should  be  the  first  servant  in  a  court  where  prayers  are  morality 
and  kneeling  is  religion. 

As  you  became  minister  by  accident,  were  adopted  without 
choice,  trusted  witjiout  confidence  and  continued  without  favor, 
you  will,  when  occasion  presses,  be  discharged  without  regret. 
Yet  for  the  benefit  of  the  succeeding  age  I  could  wish  that  your 
retreat  might  be  deferred  until  your  morals  shall  be  ripened  to 
that  maturity  of  corruption  at  which  the  worst  examples  cease  to 
be  contagious. 

To  tlie  Duke  of  Bedford : 

Can  grey  hairs  make  folly  venerable  ?  Can  age  itself  forget 
that  you  are  now  in  the  last  act  of  life?  For  shame,  my  lord;  let 
it  not  be  recorded  of  you  tliat  the  latest  moments  of  your  life 
were  dedicated  to  the  same  unworthy  pursuits  in  which  youth  and 
manhood  were  exhausted.  Consider  that  though  you  cannot  dis- 
grace your  former  life,  you  are  violating  the  character  of  age,  and 
exposing  the  imbecility  after  you  have  lost  the  vigor  of  the  pas- 
sions. 

To  Chief  Justice  Mansfield  : 

In  public  affairs,  my  lord,  cunning,  let  it  be  ever  so  well 
wrouglit,  will  not  conduct  a  man  honorably  through  life.  Like 
bad  money,  it  may  be  current  for  a  time,  but  will  soon  be  cried 
down.  I  feel  for  human  nature  when  I  see  a  man  so  gifted  as  you 
are,  descend  to  such  vile  practice.  Yet  do  not  suffer  your  vanity 
to  console  you  too  soon.  Believe  me,  my  lord,  you  are  not  ad- 
mired in  the  same  degree  in  which  you  are  detested. 

To  the  Duke  of  Grafton  again  : 

Your  cheek  turns  pale,  for  a  guilty  conscience  tells  you  you  are 
undone.  Come  forward,  thou  virtuous  minister  and  tell  the 
world  what  was  the  price  of  the  privilege  Mr.  Hine  has  bought, 
and  to  what  purpose  the  money  has  been  applied.  Do  you  dare 
to  complain  of  an  attack  on  your  honor  while  you  are  selling  the 
favors  of  the  Crown  to  raise  a  fund  for  corrupting  the  morals  of 
the  people  ?  And  do  you  think  it  possible  tliat  such  enormities 
should  escape  impeachment?  Unhappy  man!  Wiiat  party  will 
receive  the  common  deserter  of  all  parties  ?  At  the  most  active 
period  in  life  you  must  quit  the  busy  scene  and  conceal  yourself 
from  the  world,  if  you  would  hope  to  save  the  wretched  remains 
of  a  ruined  reputation. 

Junius  expresses  his  relentless  purpose  as  a  puhlic  writer 

in  the  same  letter : 


Junius.  229 

• 

I  should  scorn  to  keep  terms  with  a  man  "wlio  preserves  no 
measures  with  tlie  public.  Neither  abject  submission  nor  the 
sacred  shield  of  cowardice  should  protect  him.  I  would  pursue 
him  tluough  life  and  try  the  last  exertion  of  my  abilities  to  pre- 
serve the  perishable  infamy  of  his  name  and  make  it  immortal. 

Question  of  Authenticity. 
Who  was  Junius?  To  answer  this  question,  not  less 
than  one  liundred  volumes  have  been  written.  Immedi- 
ately upon  the  publication  of  the  letters,  suspicion  lighted 
on  several  individuals  whose  claims  have  since  been  laid 
aside.  But  quite  strangely  he  who  is  now  commonly 
desi^uated  as  their  author  was  not  then  thought  of.  Sir 
William  Draper,  who  attempted  a  controversy  with  Junius 
and  was  sorely  worsted,  divided  his  suspicions  between 
Burke  and  Lord  George  Sackville,  and  when  the  former 
denied  the  charge,  he  fastened  upon  the  latter.  The' fact 
that  Junius,  in  a  private  note  to  Woodfall,  asserts  that 
Swinney  actually  called  on  Sackville  and  taxed  him  with 
beino;  Junius,  has  led  some  to  believe  that  the  charo;e  was 
correct.  At  any  rate  it  is  a  mystery  how  any  other  man 
could  have  learned  this  incident.  Junius,  however,  knew 
it  a  few  hours  after  its  occurrence.  But  if  Sackville  were 
the  author,  it  is  strange  that  Junius  should  have  accused 
him  in  one  of  his  letters  of  cowardice  —  the  basest  charge 
that  could  be  urged  against  a  gentleman.  Byron  in  his 
Vision  of  Judgment,  says: 

Now  Burke,  now  Tooke,  he  jjrew  to  people's  fancies, 
And  certes  often  like  Sir  Piiilip  Francis. 

The  person  with  whom  the  above  reference  concludes 
was  at  the  time  of  the  Junius  letters  a  clerk  in  the  War 
otRce  in  London.  This  institution  (at  present  called  the 
Horse  Guards)  was  under  the  control  of  Lord  Bai  rington, 
who  little  dreamed  that  one  of  his  own  clerks  might  be 
attacking  both  himself  and  the  government.  This  position 
would  afford  the  writer  a  minute  acquaintance  with  the 


230  Our  Book. 

condition  of  the  army,  which  is  one  of  the  strongest 
characteristics  of  the  letters  of  Junius.  However,  instead 
of  following  my  own  train  of  reasoning,  I  accept  that  of 
the  historian  Macaulay,  who  writes  thus  on  the  question 
before  us : 

"Was  he  (Sir  Pliilip  Francis)  the  author  of  Junius? 
Our  firm  belief  is  that  he  was.  The  external  evidence  is 
we  think  such  as  would  support  a  verdict  in  a  civil,  nay 
in  a  criminal  proceeding."  Macaulay  proceeds  to  state 
the  reasons  for  his  conviction,  which  are  as  follows :  The 
author  of  Junius  must  have  been  acquainted  with  the 
technicalities  of  the  department  of  State,  and  must  also 
have  been  intimate  with  the  business  of  the  War  office. 
It  is  evident  that  he  attended  the  debates  of  the  House 
of  Lords  during  1770  and  took  notes  —  that  he  was 
strongly  attached  to  Lord  Holland.  Philip  Francis  did 
.  pass  several  j'ears  in  the  office  of  the  Secretary  of  State, 
and  was  subsequently  chief  clerk  in  the  War  office.  He 
repeatedly  mentioned  having  heard  in  1770  the  speeches 
of  Lord  Chatham,  and  he  was  introduced  into  public  life 
by  Lord  Holland.  To  this  it  may  be  added  that  the 
handwriting  of  Junius  resembles  the  disguised  hand  of 
Philip  Francis. 

The  investigation  has  been  recently  revived,  and  a 
fresh  array  of  argument  has  been  adduced  in  favor  of  the 
]iosition  taken  by  Macaulay.  It  may  be  remembered  by 
some  of  our  readers,  that  while  the  Waverley  novels  were 
first  interesting  the  public,  the  question  of  their  authen- 
ticity was  frequently  discussed.  The  secret  was  kept 
with  remarkable  success  for  twelve  years,  but  the  author- 
ship was  soon  fastened  on  Sir  Walter  Scott  by  a  writer 
of  unusual  acumen,  who  produced  a  train  of  circumstan- 
tial evidence  which  even  Scott  could  not  resist,  and 
therefore  replied  to  by  a  piece  of  hadmage.     He    was 


Astronomical  Fancies.  ^1 

determined  to  maintain  his  secret,  even  at  the  expense 

of  telling  a  few  white  lies.     As  he  says  in  a  letter  to  a 

friend : 

I  shall  not  own  Waverley,  chiefly  because  it  would  prevent  the 
pleasure  of  writing  again.  David  Hume  (nephew  of  the  historian) 
says  the  author  must  be  of  Jacobite  family,  a  cavalryman  and  a 
Scottish  lawyer,  and  desires  me  to  guess  in  whom  tliese  are  united. 
I  shall  not  plead  guilty  however,  and  as  such  seems  to  be  the 
fashion  of  the  day,  I  hope  charitable  people  will  believe  my  ajfi- 
davit  in  contradiction  to  all  other  evidence. 

By  a  similar  train  of  reasoning  the  letters  of  Junius 
are  now  traced  to  Sir  Philip  Francis.  The  latter  died  in 
1818,  and  had  for  some  time  enjoyed  the  reputation  of 
this  mysterious  authorship.  It  is  said  that  some  years 
previously  he  had  an  interview  with  that  King,  whom  he 
attacked  so  bitterly  at  an  earlier  day.  Many  years  had 
passed  and  both  had  become  old  men,  and  if  the  King 
felt  the  keenness  of  the  philippic  launched  against  him 
in  his  youth,  he  might  forgive  the  author,  because  it  was 
the  work  of  an  Englishman. 

Astronomical  Fancies. 
The  death  of  Professor  Proctor  recalls  some  of  his  pe- 
culiar astronomical  theories,  among  which  is  the  river  in 
Mars,  whose  width  is  at  least  twenty  miles,  together  with 
other  discoveries  equally  surprising.  Another  astrono- 
mer has  reached  the  conclusion  that  Jupiter  is  of  no  firmer 
consistence  than  water  —  to  which  a  wag  replies  that  if 
so,  then  the  inhabitants  must  be  web-footed.  How  neatly 
such  vagaries  as  these  are  hit  off  by  Wordsworth  in  one 
of  his  poems  (Peter  Bell),  where  he  takes  the  reader  sail- 
ing through  the  stars : 

The  Crab,  the  Scorpion  and  the  Bull, 
We  pry  among  them  all  —  have  shot 
High  o'er  the  red-haired  race  of  Mars, 
Covered  from  top  to  toe  witli  scars  — 
Such  company  I  like  not. 


232  Our  Booit. 

The  towns  in  Saturn  are  decayed 
And  melanclioly  spectres  throng  them; 
The  Pleiades  that  appear  to  kiss 
Each  otlier  in  tlie  vast  abyss, 
With  joy  I  sail  among  them. 

Swift  Mercury  resounds  with  mirth, 
Great  Jove  if  full  of  stately  bowers; 
But  these  and  all  that  they  contain, 
What  are  they  to  that  tiny  grain, 
That  little  earth  of  ours? 

According  to  the  above,  Wordsworth  seems  to  think 
that  Mars  owes  its  color  to  its  red-headed  population, 
which  he  calls  combative,  while  as  in  mythology  Saturn 
is  the  oldest  of  the  gods,  the  planet  that  bears  his  name 
naturally  shows  signs  of  decay.  Mercury  on  the  other 
hand  is  "  mercurial,"  and  society  there  is  full  of  fun  and 
frolic,  while  Jupiter,  being  named  after  a  very  dignified 
god,  is  a  place  where  good  form  is  observed.  Reader,  this 
discrimination  is  certainly  as  sensible  as  many  other  the- 
ories, some  of  which,  indeed,  remind  one  of  the  revela- 
tions which  startled  the  world  a  half  century  ago  and 
which  are  now  only  remembered  as  Locke's  "  moon  hoax.'* 

Irving. 
The  revolution  had  terminated,  but  the  British  army 
still  held  New  York,  and  their  barracks  occupied  what  is 
now  the  city  liall  park,  while  most  of  the  churches  were 
turned  to  military  use.  New  York  indeed  was  desolate, 
and  at  least  one-quarter  of  the  city  lay  in  ruins,  occasioned 
by  the  fire  of  1776.  At  such  a  time  —  the  date  being 
April  3,  17S3  —  a  babe  was  born  into  the  family  of  a 
Scottish  merchant,  who  already  had  what  now  would  be 
considered  a  sufficient  burden.  Four  sons  and  three 
daughters  already  claimed  his  protection  when  the  eighth 
and  last  born  gladdened  the  mother's  arms.  William 
Irving  —  the  father — was  from   the  Orkneys,  and   had 


Irving.  233 

cruised  on  the  ocean  before  settlin<^  in  New  York.  His 
wife  was  a  beauty  whom  lie  had  won  while  in  an  English 
port,  and  lier  character  was  as  beautiful  as  her  person. 
They  had  readied  this  city  just  in  time  to  meet  the 
colonial  troubles,  aiid  liaving  weathered  tlie  storms  of  the 
war,  gave  the  name  of  the  patriot  liero  to  their  new-born 
babe.  Under  such  circumstances  Washington  Irving 
made  his  appearance  in  the  world. 

Early  Days. 

The  first  New  York  directory,  issued  in  17S6,  contains 
"William  Irwing,  merchant,  75  William  street."  The 
place  mentioned  was  a  small,  two  story  house,  and  the 
front  room  was  occupied  as  a  store.  William  Irving  was 
a  thrifty  dealer,  and  supported  his  family  in  a  reputable 
manner.  Every  Sunday  they  attended  the  Brick  church, 
and  that  group  of  children  which  followed  their  parents 
to  the  family  pew  awoke  admiration.  William,  John, 
Ebenezer,  Peter  and  Washington  were  the  names  of  the 
sons,  the  daughters  being  Ann,  Catharine  and  Sarah,  and 
the  former  was  the  special  guardian  of  the  youngest  and 
most  beautiful,  as  well  as  the  most  gifted.  But  we  can 
only  take  a  brief  glimpse  of  youth.  The  family  grew  up 
to  usefulness.  William  and  Ebenezer  became  merchants, 
John  studied  law,  Peter  chose  medicine,  while  Washington 
seemed  at  first  to  promise  little  but  amiability.  He  was 
not  of  a  business  turn,  but  his  beautiful  person  and  charm- 
ing manners  rendered  him  a  universal  favorite.  The  easy 
life  of  such  a  boyhood  had  an  enduring  effect  upon  the 
man.  It  was  not,  however,  a  life  of  idleness,  but  one  of 
roviuff  throuo^h  those  scenes  which  were  then  so  full  of 
intei-est.  New  York  was  a  small  city,  but  it  held  chief 
distinction.  Broadway  only  extended  to  St.  Paul's,  and 
Wall  street  was  the  center  both  of  fashion  and  political 
no 


234 


Our  Book. 


influence  ;  but  there  was  the  East  river  with  its  Hell  gate, 
and  its  traditions  of  Kidd  and  his  buried  treasures,  and 
ill  fact  the  little  city  was  surrounded  by  an  atmosphere 
of  romance  which  threw  its  charm  upon  the  youth  and 
prepared  him  for  authorship. 

A  voyage  across  the  ocean  was  then  so  rare  that  it  gave 
one  marked  distinction.  Hardly  a  score  of  Americans 
had  made  an  European  tour,  but  the  youth  was  in  deli- 
cate health,  and  his  brother  William,  who  was  doing  a 
good  business,  determined  to  send  him  abroad.  Passage 
was  taken  on  a  ship  bound  for  Bordeaux,  whence  the 
young  tourist  went  to  Nice,  to  Naples,  to  Sicily  and  to 
Rome.     The  Eternal  City  contained  three   Americans, 


one  of  whom  was  Allston,  who  almost  persuaded  Irving 
to  become  an  artist.  This  tour  was  one  of  deep  interest, 
and  Irving  saw  tbe  effect  of  Napoleon's  war,  being  as  he 
traveled  through  France  taken  for  an  English  prisoner. 
He  saw  much  for  so  limited  an  opportunity,  and  while  in 
London  witnessed  the  histrionic  performances  of  Kemble, 


Ikving.  235 

Mrs.  Siddons  and  Cooke.  After  nearly  two  years  of 
wandering  lie  returned  home  with  a  head  full  of  beauti- 
ful thoughts,  but  with  no  settled  purpose. 

Nothing  better  offered,  and  so,  like  many  others  who 
have  nothing  else  to  do,  he  studied  law.  This  means  that 
he  entered  Josiah  Ogden  Hoffman's  office  and  turned 
over  the  leaves  of  law  books  while  his  heart  was  some- 
where else.  Nevertheless,  he  was  admitted  to  the  bar, 
the  examination  being  conducted  under  ths  plea  "  be  to 
my  faults  a  little  blind."  Irving  could  answer  a  few 
simple  questions.  "  Pie  knows  a  little  law,  Wilkins," 
remarked  Hoffman  to  his  associate  examiner.     "  Make  it 

stronger,  Joe,"    was  the  reply;  "say  little."     So 

they  let  him  in,  and  the  tin  sign  was  soon  visible  in  Wall 
street,  "  Washington  Irving,  Attorney-at-Law." 

LiTERAKY  Efforts. 

America  at  that  time  had  no  literature.  A  few  books 
came  from  England,  and  of  course  controlled  taste.  Pope 
was  read,  and  the  Spectator  was  popular  among  the  cul- 
tured few.  Fielding's  novels  were  also  known,  and  so 
were  the  writings  of  Goldsmith.  Some  of  the  best 
poetry  America  had  thus  far  produced  was  by  a  colored 
girl  brought  from  Africa  and  sold  in  Boston  as  a  slave, 
and  it  may  be  added  that  the  verses  of  Phillis  Wheatley 
contain  a  surprising  degree  of  merit.  New  York  had 
neither  poet,  reviewer,  editor,  novelist,  nor  even  tale- 
writer.  Its  newspapers  rarely  contained  a  well  written 
paragraph,  and  the  thinking  part  of  the  public  was  so 
occupied  by  politics  that  there  had  hardly  been  any  op- 
portunity for  general  literature. 

The  time,  however,  had  come  for  a  new  birth,  and  the 
literary  infant  was  called  Salmagundi.  Its  paternity  was 
three-fold.      One   of    these  was  William   Irving,    who, 


236  Our  Book. 

though  a  business  man,  cultivated  literature,  and  had 
he  pursued  it  instead  of  trade  would  have  vron  high 
rank.  James  K.  Paulding  was  another.  lie  had  re- 
cently come  from  Dutchess  county,  and  William  Irving 
had  married  his  sister.  The  third  was  Washington  Irving, 
who  was  just  twenty-one.  Salmagundi  was  a  series  of 
humorous  hits  at  the  town,  and  being  the  first  thing  of 
the  kind  made  a  sensation,  but  at  present  such  an  issue 
would  hardly  attract  notice.  It  is  now  only  kept  from 
oblivion  by  the  fame  of  one  of  its  authors.  After  an 
existence  of  little  more  than  a  year,  during  which  twenty 
numbers  had  been  issued,  Salmagundi  was  discontinued, 
owing  to  a  disagreement  with  the  publisher. 

One  now  reads  its  pages  not  only  with  a  melancholy 
sense  of  the  change  in  society  and  its  locality,  but  also 
with  a  sense  of  the  value  of  progress  and  improvement. 
The  allusion  to  "  our  lawmakers  waiting  at  Albany  for  tlie 
opening  of  the  river,"  and  also  to  "  the  sail  boat  that 
served  as  ferry  to  New  Jersey"  are  sufficient  for  this. 
It  may  be  added  that  Sophie  Sparkle  of  Salmagundi 
was  Mary  Fairlie,  who  afterward  married  Cooper,  the 
tragedian.  She  was  the  most  brilliant  girl  in  the  city, 
and  no  doubt  would  have  won  Irving's  affections  had  they 
not  been  previously  fixed  on  the  delicate  form  and  tender 
beauty  of  the  daughter  of  his  legal  patron,  Josiah  Ogden 
Hoffman. 

Love  Matters. 

Life  is  nothing  without  love,  and  love  becomes  both 
elevated  and  deepened  by  disappointment.  It  is  tliis  which 
gives  such  power  to  Pope's  epistle  of  Eloise  to  Abelard^ 
and  adds  such  a  charm  to  Byron's  emotional  pieces,  while 
it  reaches  its  highest  utterances  in  Burns'  Highland  Mary. 
Matilda  Hoffman  was  in  no  wise  a  striking  character. 
Lideed,  she  was  too  young  for  development,  and  would 


Ikving.  237 

probably  have  held  an  average  place  among  the  amiable, 

sympathetic  girls  just  released  from  the  hard  lessons  of 

daily  tuition  and  admitted  into  society.     Irving  loved  her, 

however,  and  to  such  a  man  the  emotion  could  only  be  of 

the  rnost  intense  power.     His  affection  was  returned,  and 

there  was  that  union  of  hope  and  happiness  which  recalls 

the  words  of  the  poet : 

O  there's  nothing  half  so  sweet  in  life 
As  love's  young  dream. 

Now  comes  the  crushing  hand  of  death  rending  the 
lovers,  but  giving  Irving  the  deep  tone  which  was  needed 
by  such  a  mercurial  character.  Matilda  died—  only  sev- 
enteen. How  early  to  fill  so  large  a  space  in  the  history 
of  genius !  Her  death  made  Irving  what  he  became. 
Had  Matilda  lived  her  husband  would  have  been  merely 
a  struggling  lawyer  (half  litterateur)  and  the  father  of 
a  sickly  family.  She  died  to  become  an  object  of  conse- 
cration, and  to  give  him  an  experience  like  that  uttered 
by  Byron  : 

Time  tempers  love  but  ne'er  removes; 

More  hallowed  wlien  its  hope  is  fled. 
Oh!  what  are  thousand  living  loves 

To  that  which  cannot  quit  the  dead? 

More  Authorship. 
Irving' s  life  had  thus  far  been  sunny  and  joyous  to  an 
unusual  degree,  but  now  he  was  called  upon  to  meet  re- 
peated sorrows.  The  death  of  Matilda  was  preceded  hy 
that  of  his  father,  and  then  died  his  beloved  sister,  Ann, 
wlio  had  nurtured  him  with  such  fondness  that  the  tie 
was  one  of  unusual  strength.  These  shadows  fell  upon 
liira  at  a  lime  when  he  was  writing  a  humorous  book,  and 
tlie  contrast  was  therefore  one  of  peculiar  power.  The 
Knickerbocker  History  of  New  York  made  others  smile, 
while  its  author  was  laden  with  sadness.  The  book  had 
merits,  and  also  glaring  defects.     Its  humor  is  overdone, 


238  OuK  Book. 

and  its  style  shows  that  the  author  had  not  read  Fielding 
in  vain,  but  the  creation  of  Diedrich  Knickerbocker,  the 
quaint  old  historian,  is  fullj  equal  to  that  of  Sir  Roger 
De  Coverly,  and  the  allusions  to  Dutch  manners  in  the 
olden  times  were  pleasing  and  felicitous. 

The  book  was  successful  from  the  very  rarity  of  author- 
ship. It  was  the  first  original  volume  printed  in  this  city 
outside  of  politics,  and  the  Dutch  gentry  were  so  indig- 
nant at  the  liberties  a  Scotchman's  son  had  taken  that  the 
sale  was  beyond  expectations.  This  work,  however,  which 
brought  Irving  $3,000,  is  so  ephemeral  that  only  his  sub- 
sequent fame  keeps  it  alive.  Had  its  author  written  no 
more  it  would  now  be  in  oblivion,  except  one  utterance. 
I  refer  to  the  most  vital  contribution  the  author  ever 
made  to  the  common  parlance  of  the  age  when  he  spoke 
of  the  "almighty  dollar." 

Ikving    and  Bukk. 

Irving,  while  in  Europe,  heard  of  the  Hamilton  and 
Burr  duel,  but  shocking  as  it  was,  this  tragedy  did  not  de- 
stroy the  friendship  which  united  the  families.  The  Ir- 
vings,  Hke  many  of  the  young  men  of  that  day,  had  been 
magnetized  by  the  fascinating  politician,  and  Peter  Irving, 
having  renounced  medicine,  became  the  editor  of  the 
Morning  Chronicle,  which  advocated  Burr's  claims  to  the 
presidency.  To  this  paper,  Washington  Irving,  when 
only  nineteen,  contributed  a  series  of  articles  on  the  drama, 
and  as  the  Park  theatre  was  then  recently  opened,  they 
attracted  some  notice.  These  Jonathan  Oldstyle  papers 
were  so  inferior  that  the  author  was  much  annoyed  by 
their  republication  after  he  had  reached  fame. 

To  return  to  Burr,  it  may  be  said  that  when  in  prison 
in  Richmond  he  sent  for  Irving,  hoping  that  his  influence 
might  be  of  assistance.     Burr  needed  all  possible  power 


Ikving.  239 

of  friendship.  Irving  obeyed  the  request,  and  found  the 
friend  of  better  days  the  solitary  inmate  of  a  cell.  He 
remained  through  the  trial,  and  ever  afterward  spoke  of 
Burr  in  terms  of  kindness,  though  he  felt  a  proper  dis- 
gust for  his  depraved  morals. 

The   war  of  1812. 

The  success  of  the  Knickerbocker  history  did  not  im- 
mediately stimulate  its  author  to  greater  efforts,  and  dur- 
ing a  whole  year  he  wrote  nothing  more  than  a  brief 
sketch  of  Campbell  to  grace  an  edition  of  The  Pleasures 
of  Hope.  The  brothers  were  so  deeply  interested  in  his 
welfare  that  they  proposed  to  give  him  a  share  in  their 
importing  house  as  a  mere  benefaction,  for  they  had  no 
idea  of  his  ever  becoming  a  business  man.  The  plan  was 
to  send  him  abroad,  but  before  this  was  done  it  was  im- 
portant that  the  movements  of  Congress  should  be  learned, 
and  hence  the  young  author  was  sent  to  Washington. 
He  wrote  to  Brevoort  that  "  the  journey  was  terrible.  I 
was  three  days  going  to  Baltimore,  and  slept  one  night  in 
a  log-liouse.  I  have  attended  Mrs.  Madison's  drawing- 
room.  She  is  a  fine,  buxom,  portly  dame,  and  has  a  smile 
and  pleasant  woi'd  for  every  one." 

The  ensuing  war  prevented  Irving  from  going  abroad, 
and  he  remained  in  New  York,  doing  such  literary  work 
as  fell  to  his  hands.  He  became  editor  of  the  Analectic 
Magazine,  to  which  he  contributed  some  biographical 
sketches  of  our  victorious  naval  commanders.  This  kind 
of  work,  however,  did  not  suit  him,  and  was  discontinued. 
The  governor  of  the  State  then  appointed  him  military 
secretary,  and  the  young  author  held  the  rank  and  title  of 
colonel,  and  did  good  service  in  this  specialty.  A  mili- 
tary order  is  still  extant  bearing  the  signature  of  "  Wash- 
ington Irving,  aid-de-canip." 


240  OuK  Book. 

Peace  soon  gladdened  all  hearts,  and  brought  a  renewal 
of  the  importing  scheme.  Foreign  goods  were  in  great 
demand,  and  Peter  Irving,  who  had  been  abroad  during 
the  war,  repaired  to  Liverpool  and  awaited  his  brother- 
Peter  had  been  physician  and  editor,  and  now  intended 
to  try  his  liand  at  trade,  for  which  he  was  as  little  adapted. 
lie  took  an  office,  however,  erected  his  sign,  "  P.  Irving 
&  Co.,"  the  "  Co."  being  the  author  and  his  New  York 
brother 

More  foreign  Life. 

In  May,  1815,  Washington  Irving,  then  in  his  thirty- 
second  year,  sailed  for  Liverpool  in  order  to  take  his 
place  in  tlie  new  firm.  He  had  a  literary  distinction  not 
limited  to  America,  for  Scott  had  read  the  Knickerbocker 
history,  and  expressed  his  gratification,  but  he  was  not 
worth  a  dollar,  and  hence  it  was  time  to  try  for  pecuniary 
success.  After  a  brief  tour  through  some  interesting  lo- 
calities, we  now  find  the  author  laboring  at  the  desk  like 
an  ordinary  bookkeeper,  and  he  writes  a  friend :  "  I  am 
as  dull,  commonplace  a  fellow  as  ever  figured  on  'change." 

He  soon  perceived  that  Peter's  purchases  were  too 
heavy  for  the  capital  of  the  New  York  firm.  The  mar- 
ket glutted,  sales  were  dull,  and  the  New  York  partners 
were  unable  to  remit.  After  seven  months  of  this  expe- 
rience, the  author  says,  in  one  of  his  letters :  "  I  would 
not  again  endure  the  anxious  days  and  sleepless  nights 
which  I  have  suffered  since  I  have  taken  hold  of  business 
for  the  wealth  of  Croesus." 

Dark  Period. 
We  now  reach  the  darkest  period  in  Irving's  life.  Fail- 
ure and  ruin  threatened  the  concern,  but  his  anxiety  was 
not  60  much  for  himself  as  for  his  brothers.  This  is 
shown  by  the  following  extract  from  one  of  his  letters : 
"  My  heart  is  torn  by  anxiety  for  my  relatives.     My  own 


Ikvino.  24 1 

individual  interests  are  nothing.  The  merest  pittance 
would  content  me  if  I  could  sec  my  connection  safe." 
Dark,  however,  as  were  his  own  prospects,  he  could  sym- 
pathize with  others.  He  met  Campbell,  who,  like  most 
poets,  was  very  poor,  and  who  had  a  scheme  for  lecturing 
in  America.  Ir\dng  encouraged  the  idea,  but  the  un- 
fortunate poet  had  not  nerve  enough  to  make  the  attempt. 
Irving,  in  these  troubles,  again  resorted  to  literature. 
lie  went  to  London  and  tried  to  induce  the  leading  pub- 
lishers to  send  their  best  M^orks  to  America,  hoping  that 
such  an  agency  would  afford  him  a  commission,  but  in 
this  he  was  disappointed.  He  also  hoped  to  republish  his 
Knickerbocker  History,  but  this  scheme  was  long  delayed. 
Irving  had  now  beezi  two  years  in  England,  and  was  get- 
ting poorer  every  day.  He  determined  to  break  away 
from  trade,  and  made  an  excursion  to  Scotland,  where  he 
met  his  first  encouragement.  Blackwood  invited  him  to 
write  for  his  magazine,  and  Scott,  who  gave  him  a  warm 
welcome,  wished  him  to  edit  a  new  periodical.  They 
viewed  the  young  author  as  the  son  of  "  a  brother  Scot," 
and  hoped  that  he  would  become  a  resident  of  the  land 
of  his  fathers,  but  though  Irving  was  delighted  with 
Scott's  hospitality,  he  declined  these  proposals,  having 
still  a  hope  of  success  in  his  negotiations  with  London 
publishers. 

Bankruptcy. 

The  house  of  P.  Irving  &  Go.  having  sunk  in  the  uni- 
versal storm,  we  now  find  the  author,  at  the  age  of  thirty- 
four,  a  bankrupt.  He  wrote  Brevoort :  "  We  are  now  to 
pass  through  the  bankruptcy  act.  It  is  a  humiliating  al- 
ternative, but  my  mind  is  made  up  to  anything  that  will 
extricate  me  from  this  loathsome  entanglement."  He 
adds :  "  I  trust  that  sometliing  will  turn  up  to  give  me 
subsistence,  and  however  scanty  may  be  my  lot  I  can  be 
31 


242  Odk  Book. 

content —  but  I  feel  harrassed  in  behalf  of  my  brothers. 
It  is  a  dismal  thing  to  look  ronnd  and  see  the  wreck  of 
such  a  familj'."  Irving  appeared  before  the  commission- 
ers in  bankruptcy,  stood  an  examination  and  was  dis- 
charged. Then  came  the  first  token  of  success  in  an  en- 
gagement to  forward  British  works  to  a  Philadelphia 
house.  It  lasted  a  year,  and  gave  him  $1,000.  What  a 
grand  lift  to  one  who  seemed  sinking! 

At  this  time  of  darkness  he  entered  the  literary  market 
with  some  sketches  which  had  amused  his  shadowed  hours, 
and  which  he  submitted  to  John  Murray,  who  was  the 
most  liberal  and  at  the  same  time  tlic  most  aristocratic 
publisher  of  the  age.  His  plans  are  thus  unfolded  in  a 
letter  to  a  friend  :  "  I  have  been  for  some  time  nerving 
my  mind  up  for  literary  work.  Should  I  succeed  (beside 
the  copyright),  I  trust  it  will  not  be  difficult  to  obtain 
some  official  situation  of  a  moderate,  unpretending  kind, 
in  which  I  may  make  my  bread.  Should  I  not  succeed, 
I  am  content  to  throw  up  the  pen  and  take  to  any  com- 
monplace employment.  I  shall  not  return  to  America 
until  I  have  sent  some  writings  which  shall  make  me  wel- 
come to  the  smiles  of  my  friends,  instead  of  skulking 
back,  an  object  of  pity." 

It  may  be  added  that  the  above-mentioned  "writings " 
were  sent  to  one  of  Irving's  brothers,  who  had  them  pub 
lished  as  fast  as  received,  and  they  were  entitled  the 
Sketch  Book,  by  Geoffrey  Crayon,  Gent.  Their  popu- 
larity in  New  York  was  decisive,  and  the  sale  was  much 
beyond  expectations.  This  led  Irving  to  offer  the  work 
to  Murray,  as  above  mentioned,  and  when  it  was  declined, 
Irving,  remembering  Scott's  kind  notice  of  Knickerbocker, 
sent  him  the  printed  pages,  and  requested  his  influence 
with  Constable.  Scott's  reply  was  encouraging,  but  in 
the   meantime  Miller  had   arranged    to  issue    the  book. 


Irvinq.  243 

which  appeared  in  London  eight  months  after  its  first 
appearance  in  New  York.  Miller  was  at  tliat  time  in 
financial  difficulty,  and  would  only  publish  on  condition 
that  the  author  should  meet  all  the  bills,  including  adver- 
tising. On  these  terms  1,000  copies  were  issued,  and 
soon  afterward  Miller  failed. 

Success  at  Last. 

Irving  had  reached  thirty-seven,  and  up  to  this  time 
he  might  have  been  termed  a  failure.  In  both  law  and 
merchandise  he  had  proved  unsuccessful,  and  this  was 
added  to  a  series  of  bereavements.  He  had  lost  his 
sweetheart,  his  parents  and  his  best-loved  sister.  He  was 
poor,  and  his  brothers  were  also  poor.  Misfortune  was 
crushing  the  family,  and  yet  at  that  time  he  had  just 
reached  the  turn  of  the  tide  which  thenceforth  set  in  and 
was  soon  to  show  a  full  wave  of  success.  Scott  was  in 
London  when  Miller  failed  ;  he  induced  Murray  to  issue 
the  work,  and  the  author  received  the  handsome  fee  of 
£250  for  the  copyright. 

The  Sketch  Book  had  a  rapid  sale.  An  American 
author  was  then  a  curiosity,  and  the  British  were  delighted 
to  see  their  country  so  elegantly  portrayed  by  a  foreigner. 
They  had  heard  the  oft-repeated  inquiry,  "  Who  reads  an 
American  book  ? "  Here,  however,  was  an  American 
book  they  could  not  but  read.  Irving  became  a  welcome 
guest  in  society,  where  his  beauty  and  elegant  manners 
awoke  general  admiration,  while  as  a  litterateur  he  became 
one  of  Murray's  favorites  and  was  sure  of  the  highest 
price  that  genius  could  command.  A  report  soon  got  in 
circulation  that  the  Sketch  Book  was  written  by  Walter 
Scott,  and  this  alone  is  proof  of  its  popularity. 

Unltjcky  Peter. 
Irving  was  utterly  devoted  to  his  brothers,  but  Peter 


244  OuK  Book. 

was  the  special  object  of  his  affection.  As  soon  as  the 
Sketch  Book  placed  its  author  in  funds  he  and  Peter 
started  for  the  continent.  A  scheme  had  been  started  for 
steam  navigation  ou  the  Seine,  and  the  two  brothers 
became  interested  in  it.  The  author  thought  it  would  be 
a  fine  thing  for  his  unfortunate  brother,  and  this  was  a 
sufficient  inducement.  lie  was  able  to  raise  $5,000,  and 
had  achieved  a  reputation  which  would  bring  more. 
Hence  he  invested  the  above-mentioned  sura  in  the 
steamboat  scheme,  and  Peter  was  installed  manager.  The 
man  who  had  failed  as  physician,  editor  and  merchant, 
now  added  one  more  failure  to  the  list.  The  scheme 
proved  a  bubble,  and  the  entire  capital  was  sunk.  Irving 
briefly  alludes  to  it  in  a  letter  with  the  closing  remark : 
"If  all  I  have  advanced  is  lost,  my  only  regret  is  on 
Peter's  account."  In  contrast  with  this  ill-luck,  however, 
was  the  news  that  Crayon  was  overselling  every  other 
book  of  the  season,  and  Murray  sends  £200  additional 
merely  from  a  sense  of  justice. 

Life  in  Paris. 
The  next  scene  is  Paris,  where  Irving  met  Tom  Moore, 
wlio  had  left  England  on  account  of  financial  difliculty. 
Moore  was  living  in  a  cottage  in  the  suburbs,  and  one 
night  his  wife  gave  a  little  reception.  Piano  music  and 
dancing  were  among  the  amusements,  and  a  chalk  line 
was  drawn  around  a  hole  in  the  floor  to  warn  of  danger. 
Another  hole  was  watched  by  one  of  the  guests,  and 
every  time  the  floor  cracked  the  humor  of  the  scene  rose 
to  a  higher  degree.  It  was  an  occasion  so  full  of  real 
pleasure  that  Irving  always  loved  to  recall  it.  Irving  also 
met  at  this  time  John  Howard  Payne,  and  both  being 
Americans  a  close  friendship  was  the  consequence.  They 
took  rooms  together,  and  engaged  in  adapting  Prench 
dramas  to  the  London  stage.     Payne  liad  gone  through 


Ikvinq.  245 

severe  poverty,  and  Irving  could  fully  sympathize  with 
him.  It  was  at  this  time  that  Payne  wrote  the  opera  of 
Clari,  which  contains  his  famous  Home,  Sweet  Home. 
Irving  was  indebted  to  Payne  for  an  introduction  to 
Talma,  the  famous  French  tragedian.  While  in  Paris 
Moore  allowed  Irving  to  read  Lord  Byron's  autobio- 
graphical memoirs,  and  he  was  the  only  man  thus  favored, 
except  the  publisher,  as  the  latter  was  induced  to  suppress 
the  work  out  of  regard  to  the  family. 

Returning  to  London. 
Irving  soon  returned  to  London  and  wrote  Bracebridge 
Hall,  which,  indeed,  had  been  begun  in  Paris,  and  also 
aided  Payne  in  bringing  out  one  of  his  plays.  Murray 
paid  Irving  £1,000  for  the  new  book,  which  also  had  a 
large  sale  in  America.  The  author  immediately  sent  £200 
to  Peter,  who  was  still  in  Paris  —  it  being  always  his  rule 
to  share  his  good  luck  with  the  family.  Irving  was  now 
a  courted  guest  in  the  highest  circles,  and  for  a  time  be- 
came a  society  man,  but  he  felt  his  homeless  condition 
deeply,  as  may  be  seen  by  the  verses  w^ritten  by  him  at 
that  time  in  a  lady's  album,  one  of  which  is  as  follows: 

For  ever  thus  the  man  that  roams, 
On  heedless  hearts  his  feehng spends; 

Strange  tenant  of  a  thousand  homes 

And  friendless  with  ten  thousand  friends. 

Visits  Germany. 
Irving's  life  now  became  a  "tale  of  a  traveler,"  and 
we  next  find  him  rambling  through  Germany  and  drink- 
ing in  the  romantic  and  supernatural  legends  of  that  land 
of  mysticism.  Frankfort,  Mayence,  Heidelberg  and 
Darmstadt  were  visited,  and  at  the  latter  he  began  the 
Tales  of  a  Traveler,  of  which  his  life  was  indeed  an  illus- 
tration. Thence  to  Munich  and  Vienna,  after  which 
came  six  months  in  Dresden,  which  formed  indeed  one  of 


246  Our  Book. 

tlie  brightest  scenes  in  Irving's  life.  He  found  a  delight- 
ful circle  of  English  visitors,  and  as  his  fame  preceded 
him,  he  had  an  enthusiastic  welcome.  He  became  a  fa- 
vorite with  the  royal  family,  and  aided  in  getting  up  pri- 
vate theatricals,  in  which  he  bore  a  part  and  performed  in 
a  very  clever  manner. 

Among  others  whom  he  met  at  this  time  were  the  Fos- 
ters (mother  and  two  daughters),  a  family  of  British 
gentry  with  whom  he  became  very  intimate.  Emily 
Foster  afterward  claimed  that  Irving  offered  her  his  hand, 
which  was  declined  for  prudential  reasons.  This,  how- 
ever, is  hardly  probable.  The  lost  Matilda  was  enshrined 
in  his  heart ;  her  prayer  book  was  his  companion  during 
all  his  travels,  and  a  still  greater  treasure  —  her  miniature 
—  was  always  with  him,  and  to  these  memorials  was 
added  a  lock  of  her  hair,  all  of  which  were  kept  sacred 
from  other  eyes  until  revealed  by  death. 

Six  months  at  Dresden  was  a  delightful  dream  which 
passed  away,  and  then  came  renewed  literary  effort. 
Murray  sent  him  a  spurring  letter  wanting  another  book, 
and  offered  £  1 ,200  without  seeing  the  contents.  Irving  was 
then  finishing  Tales  of  a  Traveler,  and  when  he  brought 
the  manuscript  to  the  publisher,  the  price  was  raised  to 
£1,500. 

London  and  parts  Again. 

Irving,  at  forty,  was  one  of  the  lions  of  London  so- 
ciety. He  met  Rogers,  Crabbe,  Proctor  and  others  of 
the  literary  notables,  while  the  artists  I^ewton  and  Leslie 
were  rivals  for  his  portrait.  Newton's  drawing  of  the 
author  is  inferior,  while  Leslie's  portrait  is  both  elegant 
in  finish  and  correct  as  a  likeness.  It  is  one  of  the  gems 
of  the  Lenox  collection,  and  its  reduced  size  is  its  only 
defect.  From  London  again  to  Paris  to  see  Peter  and 
afford  all  possible  encouragement,  and  then  in  order  to 


Irving.  247 

provide  for  the  future  the  author  takes  stock  in  a  copper 
mine.  A  *'  friend,"  as  usual,  is  ready  to  assist  him  in 
making  the  investment.  Friends  are  plenty  under  such 
circumstances,  reminding  one  of  the  bubbles  of  the  present 
day.  So  the  money  goes,  bringing  only  experience,  and 
the  author  must  once  more  to  literature. 

Life  of  Columbus. 
Alexander  Everett  was  then  our  minister  at  Madrid, 
and  as  a  life  of  Columbus  had  just  been  issued  by  a  Span- 
ish historian  (Navarette),  he  wrote  to  Irving  that  a  trans- 
lation would  be  remunerative.  Irving  replies  :  "  I  doubt 
whether  I  shall  get  as  much  as  you  suppose,  but  there  is 
something  in  the  job  that  pleases  me,  and  this  will  be 
compensation."  Before  the  lapse  of  a  month  Irving  was 
in  Madiid,  and  the  task  was  begun.  A  mere  translation, 
however,  was  found  less  desirable  than  an  original  work, 
and  the  latter  plan  was  adopted.  Irving,  who  was  then 
forty-three,  did  the  hardest  labor  of  his  entire  life.  Two 
years  of  close  application  finished  the  work,  and  Murray 
paid  £3,000,  while  the  American  edition  gave  a  profit  of 
$3,000,  thus  making  an  aggregate  of  $18,000.  Irving 
then  visited  Grenada,  the  seat  of  the  ancient  Moorish 
monarchy,  and  passed  several  months  in  those  researches 
which  afterward  gave  the  Conquest  of  Grenada,  and  the 
still  more  charming  Alhambra,  or  Moorish  Sketch  Book. 

Back  to  London, 
A  tour  embracing  Seville,  Cordova,  Malaga,  Cadiz, 
Gibraltar  and  other  places  of  interest  followed,  and  the 
scenes  thus  visited  are  given  in  many  delightful  letters 
which  can  be  read  even  now  with  pleasure.  Seville  was 
for  one  season  a  place  of  residence,  when  suddenly  comes 
the  appointment  of  secretary  of  the  legation  at  London, 
thus  breaking  up  dreamy  romance  and  ancient  memories 


248  Our  Book. 

in  the  soft  and  fascinating  atmosphere  of  Spain.  Here  is 
a  picture  of  Jife  in  the  Alhambra  (in  a  letter  to  Peter)  : 
"  I  cannot  tell  you  how  delicious  these  cool  halls  and 
courts  are  in  this  sultry  season.  My  room  is  so  com- 
pletely in  the  centre  of  the  old  castle  that  I  hear  no  sound 
but  the  hum  of  the  bees,  the  notes  of  birds  and  the  mur- 
muring of  fountains,"  Irving's  three  years  in  Spain,  in- 
deed, was  one  of  the  most  agreeable  episodes  in  his  Euro- 
pean career. 

His  arrival  in  London  opened  diplomatic  life  —  a  new 
and  interesting  experience.  Irving  was  now  the  most 
honored  of  all  the  litterateurs  of  the  metropolis,  and  Ox- 
ford made  him  an  LL.D.  The  Colonel  Irving  of  the 
war  of  1812  is  thus  the  Dr.  Irving  of  a  British  university. 
Irving,  however,  was  well  aware  of  the  ridiculous  charac- 
ter of  all  such  titles,  and  hence  dropped  it  at  once.  He 
was  presented  at  court,  and  became  acquainted  with  many 
of  the  political  magnates  of  the  day,  but  he  now  began  to 
sigh  for  home  and  was  glad  to  be  relieved  of  his  office. 
One  of  his  most  interesting  events  at  this  time  was  a  visit 
to  Newstead  Abbey,  the  former  seat  of  Lord  Byron,  and 
also  a  farewell  interview  with  Scott,  who  was  merely  a 
wreck,  body  and  mind,  and  who  went  to  the  grave  in  a 
few  months. 

New  York  once  More. 

Seventeen  years  had  elapsed  since  Irving  left  New 
York  for  the  purpose  of  becoming  a  Liverpool  merchant. 
He  returned  the  most  popular  author  of  his  day.  We 
need  hardly  say  that  his  welcome  was  of  the  most  en- 
thusiastic character.  A  grand  dinner  at  the  City  Hotel 
was  one  of  tlie  features,  and  the  leading  toast  (given  by 
Chancellor  Kent)  was  "Our  illustrious  guest — thrice 
welcome  to  his  native  land."  The  author  replied  in  an 
unassuming  but  earnest  manner,  and  closed  thus : 


Irving.  249 

I  come  from  countries  lowering  with  doubt  and  danger,  where 
the  rich  man  trembles,  and  the  poor  man  frowns,  and  where  all 
repine  at  the  present,  and  dread  the  future.  I  come  from  these  to 
a  country  where  all  is  life  and  animation,  and  where  every  one 
speaks  of  the  past  with  triumph,  and  of  the  future  with  confident 
anticipation.  Is  not  this  a  land  in  which  one  may  be  happy  to 
fix  his  destiny?  I  am  asked  how  long  I  mean  to  remain  here? 
They  know  but  little  of  my  heart  who  can  ask  this  question.  I 
answer,  as  long  as  I  live. 

The  hall  resounded  with  applause,  and  Irving,  as  soon 
as  he  could  again  be  heard,  added  as  a  finale,  "  Our  city, 
may  God  continue  to  prosper  it." 

Next  Movements. 

Irving  now  determined  on  a  tour  through  the  West, 
extending  to  the  prairies,  to  gain  an  experience  of  frontier 
life.  He  had  seen  the  most  finished  society,  and  he 
wanted  now  to  see  a  contrast.  Making  this  tour,  he  vis- 
ited Johnstown,  where  the  grave  of  his  sister  Ann  was  an 
object  of  hallowed  interest,  and  where  some  of  her  chil- 
dren were  still  living.  Irving,  then  in  his  fiftieth  year, 
was  a  model  of  manly  beauty.  I  was  at  that  time  one  of 
the  small  boys  of  the  place,  but  I  remember  vividly  the 
easy  and  elegant  form  as  it  passed  through  the  street,  and 
the  countenance  so  expressive  of  the  kind  and  genial  na- 
ture. He  walked  down  alone  to  the  grave,  and  recalled 
the  sister  that  once  dandled  him  in  her  arms,  and  whose 
lullaby  so  often  had  laid  him  to  sleep.  Then  he  turned 
away,  and  it  was  his  last  visit  to  that  sacred  spot. 

His  Tour  through  the  Prairies  was  the  result  of  this  ex- 
pedition, and,  as  usual,  it  had  a  remunerative  sale.  Then 
Astor  was  ambitious  of  a  place  in  Kterature  as  well  as  in 
finance,  and  he  wanted  Irving  to  write  Astoria.  He 
justly  felt  proud  of  his  grand  enterprise  to  the  mouth  of 
the  Columbia,  and  wished  it  suitably  chronicled.  This 
work  brought  its  author  $7,500,  which  he  needed  to 
carry  out  a  long-cherished  purpose. 
33 


250  Sdnnysice. 

A  little  home  on  the  banks  of  the  Ilndson  had  long 
been  a  leading  point  in  the  author's  ambition.  lie  wanted 
a  place  where  he  could  gather  around  him  that  circle 
which  had  always  been  so  dear  to  him,  and  to  this  he 
refers  in  a  letter  to  a  friend :  "  You  have  been  told  no 
doubt  of  my  purchase  of  ten  acres  on  the  river  bank.  It 
is  a  beautiful  spot,  capable  of  being  made  a  paradise. 
There  is  a  small  stone  Dutch  cottage  on  it,  built  about  a 
century  ago.  My  idea  is  to  make  a  little  nookery,  quaint 
but  unpretending.  In  fact  it  is  more  with  a  view  of 
furnishing  my  brother  a  retreat  for  himself  and  his  girls, 
where  they  can  ruralize  during  the  summer." 

The  brother  referred  to  was  Ebenezer,  who  had  been 
unfortunate  in  business,  and  who  passed  the  last  twenty 
years  of  his  life  in  that  very  cottage,  which  indeed  became 
the  home  of  his  family.  The  first  plan  was  enlarged,  and 
the  building  became  all  that  the  author  expected.  He 
received  many  distinguished  guests  there,  including  Louis 
Napoleon  and  Thackeray,  and  Sunnyside  indeed  soon 
attracted  the  admirers  of  genius  both  of  American  and 
foreign  birth. 

Mission  to  Madrid. 
The  politicians  had  made  every  effort  to  turn  Irving  to 
account.  He  had  declined  nomination  for  Congress,  and 
also  for  the  mayoralty  of  his  native  city.  JSText  came  a 
message  from  Van  Buren,  offering  him  a  place  in  his 
cabinet  as  secretary  of  the  navy,  which  was  also  declined, 
but  when  Tyler  appointed  him  to  the  Spanish  mission  he 
could  no  longer  refuse  the  demands  of  his  country.  His 
business  affairs  were  committed  to  the  hands  of  a  faithful 
nephew,  and  the  cottage  was  in  charge  of  Ebenezer  dur- 
ing this  period  of  absence.  Going  by  the  way  of  England 
the  author  saw  some  of  his  former  friends,  among  whom 


Irving.  251 

was  Moore,  whom  he  met  at  the  dinner  given  in  behalf 
of  the  literary  fund,  where  Prince  Albert  presided. 
Moore  was  much  shattered,  while  Irving  was  in  full  vigor. 
He  also  attended  Queen  Victoria's  fancy  ball,  but  was 
obliged  to  decline  an  invitation  to  a  public  dinner  in 
Glasgow.  Of  his  official  services  I  have  no  time  to  speak, 
and  therefore  omit  all  allusion  except  to  say  they  proved 
highly  satisfactory  to  the  government  which  he  repre- 
sented. His  anxiety  to  return  is  shown  by  the  following 
extract  from  his  doniestic  correspondence:  "I  long  to  be 
once  more  at  my  dear  Sunnyside  while  I  have  yet 
strength  and  spirits  to  enjoy  the  simple  pleasures  of  the 
country,  and  to  rally  a  happy  family  once  more  around 
me.  I  grudge  every  year  of  absence.  To-morrow  is  my 
birthday,  and  I  shall  then  be  sixty-two.  The  evening  of 
life  is  fast  drawing  over  me,  but  I  hope  to  get  back  among 
my  friends  while  there  is  a  little  sunshine  left."  In  a 
few  weeks  after  writing  the  above  he  was  restored  to  the 
bosom  of  friends  and  kindred  on  the  banks  of  the  Hudson. 

More  literary  "Work. 

It  is  certainly  remarkable  that  two  American  authors 
of  high  rank  should  select  the  same  subject.  These  men 
were  Irving  and  Prescott,  the  theme  being  the  conquest 
of  Mexico.  Irving  had  just  made  a  beginning  when  he 
learned  that  Prescott  was  similarly  engaged,  and  with 
his  customary  generosity  he  at  once  discontinued,  and 
informed  Prescott  of  his  purpose.  A  prompt  and  grate- 
ful acknowledgment  was  soon  received  from  the  favored 
author,  but  he  little  knew  the  sad  and  even  bitter  regret 
which  accompanied  this  surrender. 

Irving,  however,  had  long  cherished  a  desire  to  write 
the  life  of  Washington.  This  subject,  indeed,  had  been 
proposed  by  Constable  soon  after  the  appearance  of  the 


252  OuK  Book. 

Sketch  Book,  since  at  that  time  but  little  was  known  of 
Washington  outside  of  America.  This  fact  recalls  a  mot 
which  Irving  occasionally  related  witli  a  full  sense  of  its 
humorous  aspect.  He  was  passing  through  an  exhibition 
of  pictures  in  London  when  his  attention  was  arrested  by 
a  portrait  of  the  "  father  of  his  country,"  which  attracted 
much  attention.  While  all  were  thus  gazing  the  inquiry 
was  heard  from  a  full-grown  girl :  "  Mamma,  who  was 
Washington  '< "  "  La,  child,"  was  the  reply,  "  why,  he 
wrote  the  Sketch  Book."  To  produce  a  history  which 
should  be  authority  on  so  grand  a  theme  was  now  Irving's 
great  purpose,  and  formed  the  crowning  work  of  his  life. 

Putnam's  Proposal. 

For  several  years  after  Irving's  return  from  Europe 
his  works  had  been  issued  by  a  Philadelphia  house,  but 
as  the  latter  lacked  enterprise  there  was  a  good  chance  for 
rivalry.  At  that  time  (1848)  Putnam  opened  negotiation 
and  secured  the  exclusive  privilege.  He  produced  Irving's 
works  in  so  attractive  a  form  that  a  fresh  demand 
appeared,  and  its  extent  surprised  both  author  and  pub- 
lisher. A  new  generation  had  come  into  existence  since 
Irving's  first  publications,  and  this  gave  what  might  be 
called  "the  verdict  of  posterity"  to  the  works  of  the 
veteran  author.  Putnam's  success  led  him  to  still  greater 
efforts,  and  the  rapid  sales  yielded  Irving  a  degree  of 
wealth  of  which  he  had  little  expectation. 

The  misfortune  which  marked  Irving's  early  life  found 
a  compensation  in  the  prosperity  which  now  awaited  him. 
The  sale  of  his  works  gave  him  a  handsome  income,  and 
instead  of  living  in  solitude  and  penury  as  he  once  imag- 
ined, he  was  able  to  afford  an  establishment  which  cost 
$6,000  a  year.  What  a  contrast  between  his  condition 
and  that  of  Scott !  The  one  began  in  disappointment,  but 


Irving.  253 

ended  in  wealth ;  the  other  began  with  success,  but  ended 
a  bankrupt. 

Among  other  points  of  Irving's  good  fortune  was  the 
selection  of  his  name  by  Astor  as  one  of  his  executors. 
The  business  was  done  by  his  associates,  but  Irving  drew 
$10,000  as  his  fees.  The  popularity  of  his  name  was 
everywhere  apparent.  There  were  Irving  banks,  Irving 
insurance  companies,  Irving  stores,  Irving  magazines, 
Irving  fire  companies,  Irving  hotels  and  even  Irving  oys- 
ter houses.  He  had,  however,  seen  too  much  adversity 
to  be  inflated  with  such  honors,  and  in  point  of  real 
humility  few  such  instances  are  ever  found.  His  charac- 
ter was  simple,  and  while  he  avoided  public  notice,  he 
was  accessible  to  the  humblest  and  had  a  deep  fellow 
feeling  for  his  race.  The  life  of  Washington  kept  him 
busy,  and  the  favor  with  which  each  volume  was  received 
encouraged  him  to  labor  amid  the  infirmity  occasioned  by 
age  and  illness.  He  was  social  among  his  neighbors  and 
was  a  regular  attendant  of  the  Tarrytown  Episcopal 
church,  of  which,  indeed,  he  was  for  many  years  a 
regular  communicant.  Among  his  greatest  pleasures 
were  the  family  gatherings  at  the  "  cottage."  His  great 
desire  of  being  useful  to  his  brothers  had  been  fulfilled, 
and  his  life  thus  was  rounded  by  a  completeness  which  is 
rarely  met  in  social  history. 

Personal  Appearance. 
The  children  of  William  Irving  were  all  of  fine  appear- 
ance, but  the  author  was  the  most  attractive.  His  height 
was  five  feet  seven,  and  he  was  finely  proportioned.  His 
countenance  is  so  well  known  from  portraits  that  no 
description  need  be  added  except  to  say  that  the  artist 
rarely  did  him  full  justice.  I  remember  him  as  he 
appeared  in  New  Yoi-k  after  he  had  passed  fifty,  for  my 


254  OuK  Book. 

employer  was  his  favorite  nephew.  I  was  then  struck  by 
the  absence  of  all  assumption.  He  seemed  (in  common 
parlance)  "an  every  day  sort  of  a  man,"  and  his  conversa- 
tion was  marked  by  a  flow  of  humor  that  a  child  could 
appreciate.  A  stranger  would  hardly  believe  that  this 
could  be  the  diplomat  and  author,  who  had  met  more  of 
the  great  than  any  other  American,  and  who  had  been  on 
friendly  terms  with  royalty.  I  also  occasionally  saw  him 
walking  the  streets  in  an  apparent  reverie.  His  erect 
form  moved  quietly  along,  his  glance  was  downward,  and 
his  countenance  bore  a  pensive  look.  He  was  no  doubt 
thinking  of  old  times,  when  he  and  Brevoort  and  Pauld- 
ing were  among  the  lively  youth  of  New  York,  and  when 
Matilda  Hoffman  was  the  star  of  his  affections.  Ah, 
what  changes  had  come  over  the  spirit  of  his  dream  since 
that  day  of  buoyant  youth! 

Death  and  Bueial. 
During  his  latter  days  Irving  suffered  many  painful 
symptoms  which  indicated  disease  of  the  heart.  He 
enjoyed  the  ministrations  of  his  faithful  nieces  and  the 
best  medical  talent  of  New  York,  but  all  was  in  vain. 
He  kept  busy  at  his  great  work,  however,  but  only  sur- 
vived its  completion  a  few  months.  His  life  had  reached 
seventy-seven,  and  had  attained  such  a  completeness  that 
all  that  was  now  required  was  an  easy  dismission.  Suf- 
fering, indeed,  had  become  the  sole  condition  of  exist- 
ence. He  was  unable  to  sleep,  and  this  often  fihed  his 
nights  with  unutterable  distress.  His  last  day  on  earth, 
however,  was  one  of  peculiar  beauty.  The  autumn  was 
closing  with  that  sad  and  solemn  grandeur  which  some- 
times marks  the  decline  of  the  year.  All  of  the  family 
were  rapt  in  admiration  of  a  glorious  sunset,  and  the  au- 
thor  himself   exclaimed  at   the   beauteous   scene,   little 


Irving.  255 

dreaming  that  it  would  be  the  last  he  would  ever  behold. 
lie  retired  at  half-past  ten  o'clock,  expressing  a  dread  of  the 
night,  and  added  in  a  sad  tone,  "  When  will  this  end  ? " 
His  niece,  who  stood  near,  saw  him  as  he  uttered  these 
words,  sink  to  the  floor,  and  the  next  moment  he  was 
dead.  It  was  in  every  aspect  of  the  case  a  relief  which 
none  could  deny  to  such  a  sniferer.  Thus  passed  away 
on  the  29th  of  November,  1859,  the  author  whom  the 
world  delighted  to  honor. 

The  funeral  was  of  imposing  character.  The  services 
were  held  in  the  church  at  Tarrytown,  and  the  attend- 
ance was  estimated  by  thousands,  many  of  whom  moved 
in  solemn  procession  to  the  old  Sleepy  Hollow  cemetery, 
where  the  author  was  buried  by  the  side  of  his  parents, 
and  in  the  bosom  of  the  kindred  whom  he  loved  so  well. 

Agreeable  to  general  expectation  the  entire  estate  (ex- 
cept one  copyright)  was  bequeathed  to  Ebenezer,  the  sole 
surviving  brother,  and  to  his  daughters.  The  testator 
wished  the  cottage  to  continue  a  gathering  place  for  the 
family ;  hence  he  desired  that  it  should  not  be  sold,  but 
that  the  last  survivor  of  the  nieces  should  bequeath  it  to 
some  ffood  man  of  the  name  of  Irvin":.  The  entire  estate 
was  not  less  than  $100,000.  Ebenezer  survived  the  au- 
thor five  years,  and  since  then  the  nieces  have  been  dim- 
inished by  death  to  two,  w^ho  reside  in  New  York  in  the 
winter,  but  make  Sunnyside  their  summer  home.  The 
place  remains  unchanged.  The  pen  which  the  author 
last  used  lies  on  the  table,  as  though  awaiting  his  touch, 
and  his  hat  hangs  in  the  hall  where  he  left  it.  Sunnyside 
has  become  one  of  the  shrines  of  genius,  and  pilgrims 
from  distant  nations  resort  thither  to  honor  the  memory 
of  Washington  Irving. 

Ikving's  Sisters. 
Irving  had  three  sisters,  who  were  in  all  points  women 


256  Our  Book. 

of  wortli  and  usefulness.  One  of  the  number  (Sarali) 
married  Henry  Yan  Wart,  who  then  was  a  fine-looking 
scion  of  an  old  Dutch  family.  He  became  a  partner  with 
William  and  Ebenezer  Irving  in  the  importation  of  hard- 
ware, and  went  to  Birmingham  as  purchasing  agent. 
Both  he  and  his  wife  died  there,  and  the  latter  is  the  only 
member  of  the  Irving  family  buried  in  a  foreign  land. 
Another  sister  (Catharine)  married  Daniel  Paris,  a  highly 
respectable  lawyer,  who  at  one  time  was  prominent  in 
State  politics,  and  held  a  seat  in  the  Senate.  He  was  a 
resident  of  Troy  for  several  years,  and  both  he  and  his 
wife  were  buried  there.  Anne  was  the  oldest  of  this 
trio,  and  became  to  a  very  great  degree  the  nurse  and 
guardian  of  her  youngest  brother,  who  for  this  reason 
was  tenderly  attached  to  her.  Next  to  his  sweetheart  he 
loved  Anne  with  all  the  depth  of  that  affection  which 
marked  his  character.  Anne  Irving  married  Richard 
Dodge,  a  native  of  New  York,  who,  with  his  young  bride, 
settled  in  Johnstown,  which  was  then  the  "  far  West." 
In  point  of  time  it  was  nearly  as  distant  as  San  Francisco. 
Anne  was  the  first  of  the  Irving  family  that  passed 
away  from  this  transitory  world,  and  her  death  was  the 
first  serious  l^low  the  author  received.  He  was  at  that 
time  making  a  journey  to  the  northern  part  of  the  State, 
and  he  wrote  to  a  friend  as  follows,  under  date  of  June 
2,  1808: 

While  I  was  traveling  in  high  spirits,  with  thoughts  of  home  to 
inspire  me,  I  had  the  shock  of  hearing  of  my  sister's  death,  and 
never  was  a  blow  struck  so  near  my  lieart  before.  One  more  lieait 
lies  cold  and  still  that  ever  beat  toward  me  with  the  warmest  af- 
fection, for  she  was  the  tenderest  and  best  of  sisters,  and  a  woman 
of  whom  abrotiier  might  be  proud.  To-morrow  I  start  for  Johns- 
town.    Would  to  heaven  I  had  gone  there  a  month  ago. 

When  Irving  returned  from  Europe  in  1832  he  visited 
his  kindred  in  Johnstown,  and  the  writer  of  this,  who 
was  then  a  child,  saw  him  ^valkiiigdown  to  Anne's  grave. 


litviNG.  257 

The  author  went  alone,  for  lie  wished  no  one  to  interfere 
with  the  sad  and  tender  memories  thus  recalled.  The 
grave  is  near  the  entrance,  and  is  marked  by  a  stone  bear- 
ing the  following  inscription : 

Sacred  to  the  memory  of  Anne,  wife  of 

Richard  Dodge,  and  daughter  of  William  Irving 

of  New  York,  who  died  on  the  20th  May,  1808, 

in  her  thirty-eighth  year. 

She  lived  in  the  exercise  of  the  Christian  virtues, 

and  died  in  the  full  hope  of  a  glorious  resurrection. 

This  was  the  author's  last  visit  to  a  spot  consecrated  by 
holy  affection. 

Ikving  as  a  Dramatist. 

We  seldom  view  Irving  as  a  dramatist,  and  yet  this  was 
at  one  time  a  marked  feature  in  his  literary  labors.  lie 
and  John  Howard  Payne  were  intimate  friends  while  liv- 
ing in  Paris  in  1817,  and  the  latter  led  Irving  to  attempts 
of  this  character.  Payne  went  to  London  for  the  purpose 
of  introducing  some  of  his  own  dramas,  and  while  there 
Irving  sent  him  a  play  in  three  acts  entitled  Charles  II, 
or  the  Merry  Monarch.  This  was  a  mere  adaptation  of 
Le  Jeunesse  de  Henry  V,  a  French  play  by  Duval,  which 
appeared  thirty  years  previously. 

Payne  wrote  to  Irving  that  he  thought  it  one  of  the 
best  pieces  of  the  kind  he  ever  read,  and  adds  that  he 
sold  it  to  Covent  Garden  for  200  guineas  (equal  to 
$1,100).  The  play  was  immediately  produced,  and  was  a 
marked  success.  One  of  its  peculiar  characters  was  an  old 
pea  captain,  who  was  continually  trying  to  sing  the  only 
song  he  ever  knew.  This  was  a  very  clever  hit  in  Irving, 
whose  rhymes  ran  thus  : 

In  the  time  of  the  Rump, 
As  old  Admiral  Trump, 
With  his  broom  swept  the  chops  of  the  channel 
And  his  crew  of  Big  Breeches, 

Those  Dutch  sons  of . 

33 


258  Our  Book. 

Mary  (putting  her  hand  on  his  mouth)  said :  "  Oh, 
uncle,  uncle,  don't  sing  that  horrible  rough  song!"  In 
this  manner  something  always  happened  to  stop  the  cap- 
tain's song,  and  Charles  Lamb  said  that  ''  he  got  so  anxious 
to  hear  it  that  it  kept  him  awake  nights." 

Irving  had  stipulated  for  the  concealment  of  his  name, 
but  in  the  preface  Payne  mentioned  "  his  obligation  to  a 
literary  friend  for  invaluable  assistance."  Some  time  af- 
terward Payne  wrote  thus  to  Irving :  "  I  am  imder  obli- 
gations to  you  beyond  the  common  kindnesses  between 
friends  of  long  standing.  In  the  comedy  of  Charles  the 
Second  I  have  referred  to  the  assistance  you  gave  me, 
without  violating  your  injunction  of  secrecy.  I  only  re- 
gret that  it  is  not  in  my  power  to  make  a  more  adequate 
return."  Now  that  Payne  and  Irving  are  both  dead,  it 
may  be  said  that  the  former  is  the  original  of  "  Buck- 
thorne,  or  the  Man  of  Great  Expectations,"  in  Tales  of  a 
Traveler. 

AUTHOKSHIP  AND  ChRONOLOGY. 

While  looking  at  Irving's  life  I  am  led  to  notice  the 
recurrence  of  the  number  nine  in  the  following  manner : 
He  began  authorship  in  1809,  with  the  History  of  New 
York.  In  1819  his  Sketch  Book  was  issued  in  New  York, 
which  placed  him  at  the  head  of  American  literature. 
Ten  years  later  (1829)  he  was  the  guest  of  the  Spanish 
government  in  the  Alhambra,  and  was  elevated  by  his  Co- 
lumbus to  the  first  rank  in  history.  Ten  years  later  (1839) 
he  began  his  Life  of  Washington  —  an  old  scheme  which 
was  thus  deferred  by  circumstances  of  a  peculiar  charac- 
ter. In  1849,  Putnam's  national  edition  gave  Irving 
what  was  called  "  the  verdict  of  posterity."  Ten  years 
later  (1859)  the  Life  of  Washington  was  finished.  An- 
other point  to  be  noticed  is  the  connection  between  au- 
thorship and  mortality.     Scott,  for  instance,  reached  his 


Irving.  259 

highest  degree  of  fame  with  the  publication  of  Ivanhoe, 
but  this  grand  success  was  marred  by  the  death  of  his 
mother  and  an  unusual  mortality  in  the  family.  The  life 
of  Irvins:  is  also  a  similar  illustration  of  the  contrasted 
lights  and  shadows  of  genius.  His  first  book  was  pub- 
lished while  its  author  was  crushed  by  the  loss  of  his  be- 
trothed—  Matilda  Hoffman  —  who  died  just  six  months 
before  tlie  appearance  of  the  Knickerbocker  History.  His 
last — The  Life  of  Washington — was  finished  in  the  spring 
of  1859,  six  months  previous  to  the  death  of  its  author. 

Irving's  pen  Names.     , 

Irving  had  five  pen  names,  each  so  peculiar  as  to  at- 
tract attention.  The  first  was  Jonathan  Oldstyle  of  the 
Morning  Chronicle  —  the  next  was  Anthony  Evergreen, 
of  Salmagundi,  and  then  we  have  Diedrich  Knickerbocker 
and  Geoffrey  Crayon.  His  Chronicles  of  Grenada  were 
also  published  as  the  work  of  Fra  Antonio  Agapida,  this 
being  another  fanciful  creation.  Rather  strange  the  Old- 
style  articles,  though  the  crudities  of  a  youth  of  nineteen 
contain  one  of  the  best  things  the  author  ever  wrote.  It 
has,  however,  escaped  observation,  and  hence  some  of  my 
readers  may  be  glad  to  see  a  new  thing  from  an  old  au- 
thor.    Hence  I  offer  the  following  extract : 

Among  other  characters  of  the  play  was  an  ancient  maiden,  at 
whom  flings  and  jests  were  made  by  the  others  for  the  entertain- 
ment of  the  audience.  I  think,  however,  that  these  attempts  to 
injure  female  happiness  are  both  cruel  and  unmanly.  I  have  ever 
been  an  enthusiast  in  my  attachment  to  the  fair  sex  —  I  have  ever 
thought  them  possessed  of  the  strongest  claims  of  our  admiration, 
our  tenderness  and  our  protection.  When,  therefore,  to  these  are 
added  stronger  claims  —  when  we  see  them  aged,  solitary  and  ne- 
glected —  cold,  indeed,  must  be  the  heart  that  can  point  the  shafts 
of  ridicule  and  poison  the  little  comfort  that  heaven  may  have 
poured  into  their  cup. 

This  is  certainly  an  admirable  sentiment,  and  indicates 
the  style  of  thought  which  Irving  maintained  through  life. 


260  OuK  Book. 

Irving  and  Byeon. 

Irving  was  the  onlj  American  who  knew  the  contents  of 
a  manuscript  volume  which  has  awakened  intense  curiosity 
and  which  indeed  had  a  strange  history.  A  great  but 
poUuted  genius  writhing  under  the  verdict  which  society 
liad  uttered  against  him,  wrote  the  memoirs  of  his  own 
life,  as  an  appeal  which  must  be  heard.  It  was  to  have 
the  additional  power  of  a  voice  uttered  from  the  grave, 
for  not  till  its  author  should  have  been  laid  there  was  it 
to  appear.  Such  was  the  character  of  Byron's  autobio- 
graphic memoirs.  Having  finished  the  work  a  few  years 
before  his  death,  he  gave  it  to  his  friend  Tom  Moore, 
who  sold  it  to  John  Murray  for  2,000  guineas  —  equal  to 
$12,000  —  this  being  the  largest  sum  ever  paid  for  any 
work  of  the  kind. 

After  making  the  sale  Moore  became  convinced  that 
its  revelations  endangered  the  characters  of  others  to  such 
a  degree  that  its  publication  would  be  dangerous.  Indeed, 
when  the  annunciation  was  made,  society  was  thrilled 
with  surprise,  and  no  doubt  a  tremendous  influence  was 
brought  to  bear  on  its  suppression.  Moore  returned  the 
price  to  Murray,  and  the  amount  was  made  up  to  him  in 
a  private  manner,  after  which  the  manuscript  was  burned. 

By  way  of  explanation  it  may  be  said  that  as  Irving 
and  Moore  were  intimate  friends,  the  latter  consulted  the 
former,  who  read  the  work,  and  therefore  knew  all  its 
strange  revelations.  As  the  book  was  suppressed,  Irving 
never  divulged  its  secrets.  It  may  be  added  that  the 
destruction  of  the  manuscript  was  done  by  Mrs.  Leigh, 
the  poet's  half  sister,  into  whose  hands  it  was  placed  by 
its  former  owner. 

Irving  and  the  Ghost. 
There  was  during  Irving's  life  a  story  afloat  concerning 
his  intimacy  with  ayoungEngli.^hman  —  an  invalid  —  who 


Irving.  261 

agreed  to  appear  after  deatli  if  he  slioiild  be  invoked. 
This  story  is  to  a  cei-tain  deojree  correct.  Tlie  invalid 
referred  to  whose  name  was  Hall,  met  Irving  in  Spain, 
whither  he  had  gone  for  his  health.  Irving  gives  the 
following  account  of  the  affair :  "  One  day  we  were  talk- 
ing about  ghosts,  and  Hall  suddenly  asked  me  if  I  should 
like  to  receive  a  visit  from  him  after  death?  I  replied 
that,  as  we  had  always  been  on  good  terms,  I  would  not 
be  afraid  to  receive  such  a  visit  if  it  were  practicable. 
Hall  then  said  he  was  serious  in  his  idea,  and  added  'I 
wish  you  to  say  you  will  consent.'  To  this  I  agreed,  and 
Hall  then  said  :  '  Irving,  it  is  a  compact,  and  if  I  can 
solve  the  mystery'  for  you  I  will  do  it.'  "  Soon  afterward 
the  invalid  expired,  and  Irving  was  the  only  real  mourner 
at  the  funeral.  He  wrote  to  the  dead  man's  friends  a 
full  description  of  the  sad  event,  and,  while  oppressed 
with  the  tender  associations  of  such  a  mournful  scene,  he 
wandered  out  to  one  of  their  former  haunts  and  there 
recalled  the  compact.  In  obedience  to  his  promise  he 
whispered  an  invocation,  but  no  one  appeared,  nor  did 
Hall  ever  make  himself  present  to  his  last  earthly  friend. 
The  latter  was  wont  to  say  that  "  the  ghosts  were  not 
kind  to  him." 

Similar  Case. 
Ben  Franklin  mentions  a  similar  agreement  which  he 
made  with  a  friend  named  Osborne,  when  he  was  a  young 
man  living  in  Philadelphia.  He  says  in  his  autobio- 
graphy, "  We  had  seriously  engaged  that  Avhoever  died 
first  should  return,  if  possible,  and  pay  a  friendly  visit  to 
the  survivor,  to  give  him  an  account  of  the  other  world," 
and  he  adds,  "  Osborne  never  fulfilled  his  engagement." 
This  desire  for  such  mysterious  knowledge  is  so  natural 
that  it  has  been  a  matter  of  discussion  for  ages,  and  Blair 
thus  alludes  to  it  in  his  poem,  The  Grave : 


2G2  Our  Book. 

Tell  us,  ye  dead!  Will  none  of  you  in  pity 
To  tliose  you  left  behind  disclose  the  secret? 
O,  that  some  courteous  ghost  would  blab  it  out, 
What  'tis  you  are  and  we  must  shortly  be? 

Hoffman  and  Irving. 

The  late  Charles  F.  Hoifman  was  half-brother  to  Ma- 
tilda Hoffman  —  the  object  of  Irving's  early  affection. 
Matilda  was  the  daughter  of  Josiah  Ogden  Hoffman,  an 
eminent  attorney,  who  had  been  left  a  widower  with  sev- 
eral children.  The  youngest  of  these  was  Ogden,  who 
became  so  noted  for  his  eloquence.  Two  others  were 
daughters,  the  youngest  of  whom  was  Irving's  betrothed. 
Her  mother  died  early,  while  Ogden  was  but  a  small 
child.  Before  Irving  had  become  acquainted  with  the 
family  there  was  a  second  Mrs.  Hoffman,  who  lind  three 
children,  one  of  whom  was  the  unfortunate  Cliarlcs.  The 
family  was  a  very  happy  one,  and  the  new  mother  was 
deeply  beloved.  She  was  a  favorite  with  Irving,  who  at 
that  time  was  studying  law  in  Hoffman's  office. 

How  odd  to  think  of  Irving's  Matilda  as  a  pupil  at  the 
writing-master's;  and  yet,  by  reference  to  the  Museum, 
published  weekly  in  New  York,  in  1798,  I  see  the  adver- 
tisement of  "Jenkins'  Writing  School,"  which  contains 
the  following  certificate : 

I  engaged  John  Jenkins  to  give  my  daughter  —  a  child  not  nine 
years  old,  and  who  was  altogether  ignorant  of  writing  —  twenty- 
one  lessons.  I  have  great  pleasure  in  saying  that  by  his  instruc- 
tion she  has  acquired  a  legible  and  good  handwriting.  I  tliere- 
fore  cheerfully  recommend  Mr.  Jenkins'  manner  of  teaching  as 
deserving  peculiar  encouragement. 

Josiah  Ogden  Hoffman, 
Attorney-General  to  the  State  of  New  York. 
Decemher  21,  1798. 

Irving,  at  the  date  of  the  advertisement,  was  fifteen, 
and  was  attending  Fisk's  High  School,  and  the  next  year 
he  began  the  distasteful  study  of  the  law.  He  first  en- 
tered Masterton's  office,  but  in  two  years  began  his  studies 


Irving. 


263 


wiih  Hoffman,  and  this  led  to  liis  acquaintance  with  the 
former  pnpil  of  the  writing-master. 

Josiali  Ogden  Hoffman  had  reason  to  be  proud  of  his 
children.  Of  those  of  his  lirst  marriage,  Matilda  won  the 
heart  of  Washington  Irving,  while  Ogden  became  the  most 
brilhant  advocate  of  the  age.  Of  the  second  family, 
Julia  was  an  elegant  woman,  and  Charles  became  a  very 
popular  writer.  I  met  him  during  the  latter  part  of  his 
literary  life,  and  noticed  his  fine  personal  appearance,  not- 
withstanding his  lame  leg.  He  started  the  Knickerbocker 
Magazine,  and  afterward  the  American  Monthly,  In 
1846  he  began  a  comic  weekly  called  Yankee  Doodle, 
which  was  unsuccessful ;  but  its  columns  were  graced  by 
an  effusion  which  will  Hve  as  long  as  our  national  litera- 
ture. This  is  his  Monterey.  The  news  of  Taylor's  vic- 
tory over  the  Mexicans  had  just  been  received  and  oc- 


CHARLES  F.  HOFFMAN. 

casioned  that  thrilling  outburst  of  martial  poetry.  It  was 
among  his  last  pieces,  and  is  the  only  one  which  will  live. 
Soon  afterward  it  was  whispered  that  his  mind  was  fail- 
ing, and  it  was  not  long  before  he  was  placed  in  an  asylum, 
where  he  remained  until  relieved  by  death. 


264  OuK  Book. 

Ikving's  Sorrows. 
Irving  lost  his  father,  his  best  beloved  sister  and  his 
betrothed  within  the  space  of  little  more  than  a  year. 
Such  blows  would  naturally  affect,  in  a  very  powerful 
manner,  a  sensitive  young  man  of  twenty-five,  but  they 
were  followed  by  other  disastrous  changes.  He  became  a 
partner  with  his  brotliers,  and  the  firm  failed.  He  went 
to  Liverpool  to  take  charge  of  the  business,  and  bank- 
ruptcy overtook  him  in  a  strange  land.  Under  such  cir- 
cumstances he  thus  writes  to  Mrs.  Hoffman  : 

I  have  been  so  crushed  by  cares  and  troubles  that  I  liave  almost 
abandoned  letter  writing,  and  indeed  would  do  so  altogether  but 
that  I  am  fearful  that  those  whose  affection  I  most  value  would 
either  forget  me  or  think  I  had  forgotten  them.  I  met  Mr.  Ver- 
planck  lately,  and  the  sight  of  iiim  brought  up  a  thousand  melan- 
ciioly  reflections  of  past  scenes  and  of  distant  friends,  and  also  of 
those  that  have  gone  to  a  better  world.  When  I  look  back  a  few 
years,  what  changes  have  taken  place!  Is  this  an  epoch  i)eculiar 
for  its  vicissitudes,  or  has  my  own  circle  been  especially  subject 
to  calamity,  or  is  it  the  common  lot  of  man  to  find,  as  he  advances, 
the  blows  of  fate  thickening?  What  wreck  and  ruin  a  few  short 
years  have  produced !  My  future  prospects  are  dark  and  uncer- 
tain, but  I  hope  for  the  best,  and  may  yet  find  wholesome  fruit 
springing  up  from  trouble  and  adversity. 

"When  we  consider  that  Irving's  subsequent  life  was 
liiglily  prosperous,  we  may  see  the  benefit  of  his  example 
in  always  hoping  for  the  best.  The  darkest  hour  is  often 
just  before  dawn.  It  was  at  such  a  time  that  he  ventured 
the  publication  of  the  Sketch  Book,  which  brought  him 
immediate  success. 

Byron. 
Yiewing  Byron  either  physically  or  intellectually  his 
life  was  unusually  rapid.  His  poetic  career  was  hardly 
more  than  ten  years  in  duration,  and  he  ceased  writing  at 
an  age  when  most  men  have  hardly  reached  notice. 
Walter  Scott,  for  instance,  at  that  age  had  only  published 
his  Border  Minstrelsy  and  a  few  ballads.  Byron 
wrote  nothing  for  the  press  after  his  thirty-fourth  year, 


B  T  IE   ©    W 


Byron.  265 

his  lines  on  reacbing  tliirty-six  being  merely  a  personal 
lament,  and  he  died  three  months  afterward.  His  history 
may  be  divided  into  four  parts :  First,  from  infancy  to 
the  university,  a  period  of  nineteen  years;  second,  uni- 
versity to  marriage,  a  period  of  right  years ;  third,  mar- 
ried life,  a  period  of  thirteen  months;  fourth,  life  in  Italy 
and  death  in  Greece,  including  a  pe'-iod  of  little  more 
than  seven  years. 

The  first  of  these  periods  gives  us  the  vrild  and  head- 
strong boy  at  school  in  Scotland,  of  which  country  his 
mother  was  a  native.  No  control  was  exercised  upon  his 
passions,  which  he  inherited  in  great  force  from  both 
parents.  Capt.  Byron,  indeed,  was  a  notorious  profligate, 
who  died  when  the  future  poet  was  only  three,  and  on 
the  other  hand  the  mother  was  subject  to  fierce  paroxysms 
of  rage. 

Capt.  Byron  was  married  twice,  the  fruit  of  the  first 
union  being  Augusta,  who  was,  therefore,  the  poet's  half- 
sister.  He  says  of  this  period  in  his  life:  "I  differed 
not  from  other  children,  except  in  my  sullen  moods,  and 
then  I  was  a  devil.  They  once  wrenched  a  knife  from 
me  which  I  had  applied  to  my  own  breast.  My  passions 
were  developed  so  early  that  few  people  would  believe 
me."  This  ferocity  was  the  prominent  feature  in  his 
life,  and  is  one  of  the  proofs  of  mental  disease.  He  had 
what  he  calls  "an  infant  passion  for  Mary  Duff."  At 
twelve  he  was  so  deeply  in  love  with  his  cousin  that  it 
called  forth  his  first  poem*  He  says  tliat  "the  effect  of 
his  passion  was  that  he  could  not  eat  nor  sleep."  The 
girl  died  soon  afterward,  and  before  two  years  were  past 
he  was  again  intensely  in  love,  the  object  of  liis  affection 
being  Mary  Chaworth,  whom  he  called  "  the  star  of  his 
boyhood."  He  says :  "  Our  union  would  have  healed 
feuds  and  joined  lands." 
34 


266  Our  "Book. 

Castelar  is  of  the  opinion  that  it  should  have  taken 
place,  and  that  it  would  have  changed  favorably  the  poet's 
life.  This  view  I  cannot  accept.  She  was  two  years  his 
senior,  and  being  his  third  love,  would  naturally  have 
given  away  to  other  attractions.  I  do  not  believe  that 
Byron  and  Mary  Chaworth  would  have  lived  together  a 
year.  It  is  my  conviction,  based  on  his  own  sentiments, 
that  his  "  love,"  as  he  called  it,  was  as  diseased  as  the  rest 
of  his  nature.  Evidently  it  was  as  variable  as  it  was 
intense.  Having  begun  with  Mary  Duff  in  childhood,  it 
shifted  from  one  object  to  another.  He  says  that  he  was 
"  attached  fifty  times  before  marriage."  After  his  wife 
had  left  him  he  continued  these  varied  attachments  until 
he  reached  GuiccioH,  and  when  he  got  tired  of  her  he 
went  to  Greece,  where  death  stopped  his  amours. 

Education. 

He  thus  speaks  of  his  university  life :  "  I  took  mv 
graduation  in  the  vices  with  great  promptitude,  but  they 
were  not  to  my  taste."  He  means  that  he  was  too  soli- 
tary to  go  into  what  he  calls  "  the  commonplace  liber- 
tinism of  the  university."  He  adds  :  "  The  heart  thrown 
back  on  itself  threw  me  into  excesses,  perhaps  more  fatal 
than  those  from  which  I  shrunk."  From  such  hints  as 
these  it  may  be  inferred  that  Byron's  college  life  was 
marred  by  dissipation  and  licentiousness.  He  had  a  set 
of  wild,  but  talented  companions,  including  Bankes  and 
llobhouse,  but  the  most  noted  was  Matthews,  who  was, 
indeed,  one  of  the  most  gifted  men  in  England.  He  gave 
promise  of  attaining  distinction,  but  was  drowned  while 
bathing. 

It  was  these  roysterers  that  he  invited  to  Newstead 
Abbey,  and  as  a  costumer  had  provided  them  with  monas- 
tic robes  their  orgies  were  the  more  fantastic  when  con- 


Byros.  2G7 

trasted  with  the  gai'b  of  a  religious  order.  On  tliese 
occasions  Bjron  was  styled  "the  abbott."  lie  had 
amused  himself  while  in  the  university  by  writing  poetry, 
and  in  his  nineteenth  year,  having  left  Cam!)ridge,  he 
published  Hours  of  Idleness.  Had  it  not  been  for  the 
attack  made  on  this  volume  by  the  Edinburgh  Review  it 
Avould  have  died  a  natural  death,  and  th't  would  have 
been  the  end  of  Lord  Byron.  The  review  was  bitter  and 
unjust  as  a  criticism  and  rude  in  its  personal  allusions,  but 
it  was  jnst  what  was  wanted  to  wake  up  dormant  genius, 
and  he  had  a  reply  ready  for  the  press  before  the  end  of 
the  year,  but  while  the  world  was  thrilled  by  English 
Bards  and  Scotch  Reviewers  the  author  had  siiiled  on  a 
voyage  to  Spain. 

After  two  years'  absence  in  the  east  Byron  returned  and 
published  Childe  Harold.  He  was  then  (1812)  ni  his 
twenty-third  year,  and  it  is  surprising  that  the  lame 
which  this  work  conferred  did  not  make  him  dizzy. 
Probably  the  reason  why  it  did  not  was  because  the  love 
of  fame  had  less  power  over  liim  tlian  his  sensual  passion. 
The  loose  morals  of  Spanish  life  liad  their  natural  effect 
and  the  scenes  of  the  Orient  were  much  of  the  same 
character. 

He  came  back  ready  to  alternate  in  the  service  of  the 
muse  on  the  one  hand  and  the  teni[)Ie  of  Venus  on  the 
other.     His  poetic  fertility  at  that  time  was  wonderful. 

Childe  Harold  was  followed  by  the  Curse  of  Minerva, 
the  Giaour,  the  Bi'ide  of  Abydos  and  the  Corsair  —  all 
published  within  three  years  after  his  return,  the  author 
being  then  just  twenty-five.  Ko  such  precocity  can  else- 
where be  met  in  the  annals  of  genius,  and  the  best 
explanation  is  found  in  the  fact  that  it  was  that  rapid 
operation  which  is  generally  the  proof  of  disease.  He 
was  as  he  said — "  unnaturally  old."     The  Bride  of   Aby- 


268  OuE  Book. 

dos  was  written  in  four  nights,  in  order  to  divert  his  mind 

from  an  unpleasant  subject. 

During  this  time  he  was  on  the  managing  committee 

of  Drury  Lane  Theater  and  had  every  facility  of  loose 

life.    One  of  the  actresses  was  under  his  "  protection,"  as 

he  expresses  it,  and  the  occasional  hints  in  his  letters 

prove  that  he  sank  deep  into  the  vices  of  the  metropolis. 

This  was  a  strange  preparation  for  domestic  life   and 

hence  one  is  somewhat  surprised  at  tlie  announcement 

which  he  thus  makes  to  Tom  Moore : 

September  20,  1814. 
Dear  Moore, —  I  am  going  to  be  married.     You  need  not  be  iu 
a  hurry  to  wisli  me  joy.     I  must  of  course,  reform  thoroughly. 

This  last  sentence  is  decidedly  suggestive,  but  as  for 
reformation,  that  was  impossible.  To  another  person  he 
writes  concerning  the  happy  event :  "  You  know  I  must 
be  serious  all  the  rest  of  my  life."  With  such  prepara- 
tions he  approached  a  union  with  an  heiress  on  whose 
wealth  he  laid  favorable  eyes.  He  was  so  reduced  by  his 
extravagance  that  money  must  be  had,  while  some  check 
to  his  excesses  was  necessary  to  save  him  from  decay  and 
perhaj)s  early  death. 

,.  The  Bkide.  • 
She  who  was  to  be  offered  up  to  this  combination  of 
genius,  drunkenness  and  passion  was  a  calm  and  self- 
possessed  young  woman  of  twenty-three,  of  fine  mathe- 
matical abilities  and  one  who,  being  controlled  by  reason 
as  well  as  by  affection,  was  just  the  reverse  of  her  be- 
trothed. In  fact,  the  union  was,  to  a  very  great  degree, 
the  reverse  of  the  sex  in  each  party.  Anna  Arabella  Mil- 
banke  —  commonly  called  Annab  ell  —  the  discreet  and 
methodical  bride,  was  of  the  masculine  element,  while  the 
passionate,  capricious,  unstable  and  heedless  poet,  was 
what  is  sometimes  regarded  as  ihe  feminine. 


Byeon.  209 

On  Jiimuiry  2,  1815,  the  wedding  took  place,  the  poet 
being  nearly  twenty-seven.  Seldom  is  a  man  found  less 
fitted  for  married  life,  and  his  opinion  of  the  condition  is 
thus  expressed  in  a  letter  to  Moore  jnst  a  month  after- 
ward :  "  The  treacle  moon  is  over ;  I  am  awake  and  find 
myself  married.  *  *  *  Swift  says  no  wise  man  ever 
marries,  but  for  a  fool  I  think  it  the  most  ambrosial  of 
all  future  states." 

The  reformation  of  which  Byron  spoke  was  hardly  at- 
tempted. He  commenced  married  life  in  London,  and  in 
elegant  style ;  spent  his  money  lavishly  —  was  a  regular 
patron  of  the  theatre  in  all  its  freedom,  and  mingled  in 
orgies  of  the  vilest  character.  Toward  autumn,  when 
Lady  Byron  ^vas  approaching  maternity,  her  husband  was 
reveling  at  dinners  whose  drunkenness  he  chronicles  in 
his  letters.  On  the  10th  of  December  Ada  was  born, 
and  the  poet  writes  to  Moore  that  "  it  is  a  large  child  for 
her  days,"  and  adds :  "  I  have  been  married  a  year,  heigh 
ho  !  "  Little  did  he  think  that  he  was  so  soon  to  be  free 
from  such  burdens. 

A  SENSIBLE  Woman. 

The  lorn  Annabell  had  for  a  wliole  year  lived  with  a 
poetical  rake  whose  reformation  at  last  seemed  beyond 
hope.  lie  was  the  most  brilliant  writer  of  his  day,  and 
yet  his  evil  habits  more  than  off-set  his  fame.  Had  he 
loved  his  wife  slie  might  have  endured  a  still  greater  bur- 
den of  misery,  but  she  learned  by  a  year  of  sorrow  that 
his  heart  was  in  the  stews  of  London.  She  had  become 
the  mother  of  a  lovely  babe,  and  this  at  once  absorbed 
her  soul.  The  reckless  debauchee  whom  she  was  once 
proud  to  call  husband  had  lost  his  power  over  her.  The 
babe  was  her  life,  and  the  question  was  how  to  save  it 
from  the  abominations  which  overhung  the  father's  name 
for  two  generations. 


270  OcK  Book. 

One  excuse,  however,  liad  caused  her  to  contemplate 
him  with  pitj,  and  made  her  willing  to  cling  to  his  side. 
He  was  insane !  Such,  indeed,  was  the  theory  by  which 
she  accounted  for  that  abominable  depravity  whicli  no 
words  could  express.  She  would  not  abandon  the  wretched 
lunatic,  brute  as  he  had  become.  This  explains  the  kind- 
ness which  she  displayed  when  they  parted  (the  last  time), 
six  weeks  after  Ada's  birth.  She  went  to  visit  her  parents 
in  the  country,  and  then  thought  to  return,  but  having 
reached  her  paternal  home,  a  thorough  examination  was 
made  of  her  husband's  conduct. 

She  was  forced  by  fresh  testimony,  obtained  in  a  way 
which  I  need  not  describe,  to  another  conclusion.  That 
conclusion  was  that,  so  far  from  being  a  lunatic,  he  had 
full  use  of  his  reason  ;  the  trouble  was  not  insanity,  but 
the  domination  of  foul  and  damning  passions.  Informa- 
tion was  then  conveyed  to  the  poet  that  the  separation 
was  forever,  and  they  never  met  again.  In  this  way  the 
greatest  woman-killer  of  the  day  found  that  there  was  at 
least  one  of  the  sex  who  was  his  master.  He  also  learned 
that  the  details  of  his  evil  life  had  been  discovered  by  his 
indignant  wife  by  means  of  an  espionage  under  which  he 
had  been  placed.  The  woman  had  completely  out-gen- 
eraled  him,  and  if  he  demanded  the  babe  she  was  ready 
to  meet  him  in  the  courts  with  proof. 

Byron's  wife  became  a  widow  at  thirty-two,  but  never 
married  again.  She  rarely  sought  society,  but  visited 
Walter  Scott  at  Abbottsford  in  1817,  when  Ada  was 
nearly  two  years  old.  No  doubt  she  had  at  this  time 
heard  of  Allegra,  who  was  then  nearly  a  year  old.  Scott 
writes  thus  of  this  visit  in  a  letter  to  a  friend  :  "My  heart 
ached  for  her  all  the  time  we  were  together  —  there  was 
80  much  patience  and  decent  resignation  to  a  situation 
which  must  have  pressed  on  her  thoughts,  that  she  was  to 


Bykon.  271 

me  one  of  the  most  interesting  creatures  I  had  seen  for  a 
score  of  years."  Lady  Byron  devoted  much  of  the  last 
thii-ty  yeai*s  of  her  hfe  to  works  of  benevolence,  and  died 
ill  18G0,  being  then  in  liur  sixty -nintli  year.  She  sur- 
vived her  husl)and  thirty-six  years,  and  her  only  child 
(Ada)  one-<juartcr  of  that  time,  and  no  doubt  had  a  full 
share  of  the  sorrows  of  life. 

Exciting  Gossip. 

The  separation  of  a  titled  family,  after  so  brief  a  union, 
occasioned  the  most  exciting  gossip  which  up  to  that  time 
London  had  ever  enjoyed.  The  genius  of  the  young 
peer,  his  beauty,  his  intrigues  and  his  embarrassments, 
were  the  vivid  and  insj^iring  subjects  of  conversation. 
Everybody  justified  the  course  pursued  by  the  wife,  and 
the  splendid  rake  received  the  entire  volume  of  public 
denunciation.  He  was  compelled,  as  by  force  of  con- 
science, to  vindicate  his  wife,  and  he  thus  writes  Moore 
three  months  after  the  separation  :  "  I  must  say  in  the 
very  dregs  of  this  bitter  business,  that  there  never  was  a 
better  or  even  a  brighter,  a  kinder  or  more  amiable  and 
agreeable  being  than  Lady  B.  I  never  had,  nor  can 
liave,  any  reproach  to  make.  Where  there  is  blame  it 
belongs  to  myself,  and  if  I  cannot  redeem  1  must  bear." 

To  escape  the  gossip  which  pervaded  the  aristocracy, 
including  Parliament,  of  which  he  was  a  member,  Byron 
determined  to  leave  England.  Another  reason  was  his 
financial  condition.  He  had  spent  money  so  lavishly  and 
foolishly  that  he  was  deepl}'  in  debt,  and  his  library  was 
under  levy.  He  writes  to  Murray,  four  months  after  the 
separation  :  "  This  is  the  tenth  execution  in  as  many 
months.  So  I  am  pretty  well  hardened  ;  but  it  is  fitting 
that  I  should  i)ay  the  penalty  of  my  forefathers'  extrava- 
gance and  my  own." 

Before  the  lapse  of  six  weeks  he  left  England,  little 


272  Our  Book. 

thinking  lie  would  never  return,  but  such  was  the  case. 
He  raised  sufficient  funds  from  the  sale  of  his  works  to 
give  him  a  start,  and  the  cheapness  of  hving  in  Italy 
would  afford  an  ojiportunitj  to  retrieve  his  condition. 
The  poet,  though  then  little  past  twenty-eight,  was  pre- 
maturely old.  His  constitution  was  one  of  great  natural 
strength,  but  it  had  been  terribly  impaired  by  the  habits 
which  liad  mastered  him.  During  his  journey  he  col- 
lected material  for  a  continuation  of  Childe  Harold,  but 
in  Switzerland  an  intrigue  with  an  English  woman 
resulted  in  the  birth  of  his  second  daus^hter  Alleo'i-a,  who 
was  only  a  year  younger  than  Ada.  Six  months  after 
leaving  England  he  reached  Yenice,  and  in  a  few  weeks 
his  letter  to  Moore  announces  a  fresh  intrigue.  His  god- 
dess "  has  the  voice  of  a  lute  and  the  song  of  a  seraph," 
etc. 

Congenial  Abode. 
Byron's  letters  from  Italy  show  that  he  had  at  least 
reached  ,a  congenial  state  of  society.  Yet  even  at  this 
time  genius  reasserted  her  power,  and  he  wrote  Manfred 
and  other  works  of  ability,  including  the  remainder  of 
Childe  Harold.  The  next  year  he  took  up  his  residence 
at  Ravenna,  and  the  inevitable  amour  which  followed 
introduces  the  name  of  Guiccioli.  About  this  time  he 
placed  in  the  hands  of  his  best  friend,  Tom  Moore,  that 
autobiography  which  was  afterward  destroyed.  It  is  to 
be  noted  that  Byron's  letters  from  Italy  rarely  referred 
to  the  glories  of  art  or  architecture.  One  would  hardly 
imagine  from  their  perusal  that  he  was  in  the  land  of 
Raphael  and  Michael  Angelo,  but  they  are  spiced  with 
allusions  to  his  intrigues.  His  appeal  in  Childe  Harold 
to  "Ada,  sole  daughter  of  my  house  and  heart,"  was 
written  when  he  had  another  daughter  (Allegra),  whom 
he  loved  much  more  tenderly,  but  who  died  two  years 


Byron.  273 

before  her  father.  These  things  show  that  his  paren- 
tal sentiment  was  artificial  and  was  intended  for  public 
display,  while  the  reality  was  of  a  very  different  char- 
acter. 

The  true  Yiew. 

Byron's  Italian  life  was,  in  fact,  one  in  which  his 
earlier  sins  were  deeply  intensified.  He  described  the 
social  depravity  that  surrounded  liiin  with  a  gusto  which 
showed  how  much  he  loved  it.  Never  did  he  express 
regret,  still  less  repentance.  He  says :  "  If  I  were  to 
live  over  again  I  do  not  know  that  I  would  change  in  my 
life,  except  it  were  for  —  not  to  have  lived  at  all."  The 
true  view  of  Byron  is  genius  overcome  by  the  unclean 
spirit.  The  social  corruption  of  Italian  society  inspired 
his  last  poem,  Don  Juan,  which  was  begun  at  thirty,  the 
year  of  life  in  which  the  missionary,  Brainerd,  closed  his 
wonderful  career.  An  impressive  contrast  with  Byron  is 
found  in  Augustin,  for  both  confessed  the  power  of  the 
baser  passions.  In  one  we  see  the  soul  rising  after 
repeated  struggles,  in  which  he  made  an  eventual  triumph. 
In  the  other  we  see  the  spiritual  nature  gradually  yielding 
to  the  unclean  spirit,  until  it  became  the  slave  of  the 
latter. 

The  worst  spectacle  in  the  world  is  a  wasted  life,  and 
such  was  the  picture  Byron  thus  presents  of  himself : 

In  short,  I 

Have  squandered  my  whole  summer  while  't  was  May, 

Have  spent  my  life  both  interest  and  principal, 

And  deem  not  —  what  I  deemed  —  my  soul  invincible. 

The  best  thing  to  read  in  connection  with  this  confes- 
sion is  James  Russell  Lowell's  Extreme  Unction,  the  or- 
iginal of  which  Byron  might  have  supplied  better  than 
any  other  character. 

The  sated  sybarite  left  Italy  for  Greece  worn  ont  and 
35 


274  Our  Book. 

in  premature  age.  Indeed,  the  rapid  decline  occasioned 
by  vice  had  for  some  years  made  him  feel  like  an  old  man. 
This  idea  he  brought  out  in  Manfred,  with  an  almost  pro- 
phetic foresight : 

Look  on  me !  there  is  an  order 

Of  mortals  on  the  earth  who  do  become 

Old  in  tlieir  youth,  and  die  ere  middle  age. 

Without  the  violence  of  warlike  death, 

Some  perishing  of  pleasure. 

The  year  before  he  died  he  wrote  thus  to  the  Countess 
of  Blessington: 

I  am  ashes  where  once  I  was  fire, 
And  the  bard  in  my  bosom  is  dead ; 

What  T  loved  I  now  merely  admire. 
And  my  heart  is  as  gray  as  my  head. 

My  life  is  not  dated  by  years, 

There  are  moments  which  act  as  a  plow; 

And  there  is  not  a  furrow  appears, 
But  is  deep  on  my  soul  as  my  brow. 

The  poet's  life  in  Greece  was  limited  to  nine  uninter- 
esting months,  and  perhaps  its  only  noticeable  feature  is 
that  mournful  confession,  dated  "Missolongiii,  January 
22,  1824.  On  this  day  I  complete  ni}'^  thirty -sixth  year," 
and  of  this  the  following  extract  is  sufficient : 

My  days  are  in  the  yellow  leaf; 

The  flowers  and  fruits  of  life  are  gone, 
The  worm,  the  canker  and  the  grief 

Are  mine  alone. 

The  fire  that  in  my  bosom  preys 

Is  lone  as  some  volcanic  isle ; 
No  torch  is  kindled  at  its  base, 

A  funeral  pile. 

Three  months  after  the  above  was  written,  its  author 
died,  but  the  rude  condition  of  a  Greek  fortress  had  no  con- 
venience for  a  distinguished  funeral.  A  carpenter  was 
ordered  to  make  a  chest,  which  was  done  in  a  rough 
manner,  and  this  was  the  poet's  coffin.  As  there  was  not 
a  pall  in  the  place,  a  half -worn  black  cloak  was  used  as  a 
covering,  but  it  only  partially  concealed  the  rude  exterior. 


Byroi?.  S75 

The  chest  was  borne  to  the  Churcli  of  St.  Nicholas  bj 
the  officers  of  the  Greek  army,  followed  by  the  troops 
and  many  of  the  population.  When  placed  in  the  church 
a  helmet,  a  sword  and  a  crown  of  laurel  were  laid  upon 
it,  and  the  funeral  services  of  the  Greek  Church  was  then 
read.  A  guard  of  honor  afterward  took  charge  of  the 
remains  until  they  were  shipped  to  England.  They  lay 
in  state  for  two  days  in  London,  and  were  then  conveyed 
to  Hucknell  Church,  a  distance  of  a  hundred  miles, 
the  journey  occupying  six  days.  The  poet  was  not  only 
transported  to  his  native  land  contrary  to  his  fixed  desire, 
but  the  latter  was  also  violated  in  another  particular.  He 
desired,  if  buried  in  England,  to  be  placed  in  the  vault 
by  the  side  of  the  dog  he  loved  so  well,  and  which  he 
honored  with  an  epitaph.  Instead  of  this,  however,  he 
was  laid  in  the  tomb  under  the  church.  Byron  had 
another  favorite  dog,  which  was  brought  to  England  with 
the  corpse  of  its  master,  and  was  for  many  years  a 
cherished  feature  at  Newstead.  Irving  who  visited  the 
poet's  former  home  in  1 832,  saw  this  favorite  animal,  in 
which  he  became  deeply  interested. 

The  Poet's  Descendants. 

His  first  child  was  Ada,  whom  he  never  saw  after  her 
second  month,  for  his  wife  then  abandoned  him.  Allegra 
was  thirteen  months  younger  than  Ada,  and  was  the 
only  object  Byron  really  loved.  She  died,  however,  in  her 
childhood,  and  was  sent  from  Italy  to  England  for  burial. 
Ada  Byron  became  an  elegant  woman,  but  never  displayed 
intellectual  power.  In  her  twentieth  year  she  married  an 
English  gentleman  named  King,  who  by  courtesy  was 
called  the  Earl  of  Lovelace.  She  died  in  1852,  being 
in  her  thirty-seventh  year,  just  the  age  of  her  father. 

She  had  two  sons,  and  the  elder  was  so  eccentric  that 
his  death  was  a  relief.     He  tui-ned  amateur  hiffhwavman 


2T6  Our  Book. 

and  stopped  a  carriage  with  a  pistol,  to  which  was  added 
other  mischief  which  soon  wore  out  the  patience  of  his 
friends.  Then  he  renoanced  the  name,  and  got  employ- 
ment in  a  ship-yard,  and  was  on  the  point  of  marrying  the 
daughter  of  a  carpenter  when  his  death  suddenly  took  place. 
The  next  son  inherited  wealth  and  a  title,  but  he  lacked 
force  of  character.  He  married  the  daughter  of  a  clergy- 
man, but  the  union,  which  was  very  unhappy,  was  soon 
dissolved  by  tlie  death  of  the  wife.  One  daughter  was 
born  to  this  discordant  couple,  and  she  is  now  the  sole 
representative  of  the  line,  which  no  doubt  will  become 
extinct,  and  if  so  it  is  just  what  the  miserable  poet  de- 
sired. 

Bykon  Chaeacteristics. 

The  fact  that  a  statue  of  this  poet  has  recently  been 
erected  at  Missolonghi,  recalls  some  personal  references  of 
a  peculiar  character.  I  find,  for  instance,  that  he  had 
some  very  peculiar  notions  in  reference  to  his  own  bui'ial. 
When  he  was  in  liis  twenty-first  year,  he  made  his  first 
will,  in  which  appears  the  following  clause  :  "  I  desire 
that  my  body  be  buried  in  the  vault  at  Newstead,  with- 
out any  ceremony  or  burial  service  whatever."  He  also 
desired  that  his  dog  (buried  in  the  same  vault)  should  not 
be  removed.  A  few  days  afterward  he  wrote  to  a  friend 
thus :  "  With  regard  to  the  few  and  simple  directions  for 
the  disposal  of  my  carcass  [his  own  italics],  I  must  have 
them  implicitly  followed,  and  this  will  save  trouble  and 
expense."  At  that  time  Byron  had  recently  lost  a  num- 
ber of  friends  (including  his  mother),  and  he  endeavored 
to  familiarize  himself  with  death  by  keeping  four  skulls 
in  his  room.  One  of  these  was  made  to  hold  a  silver  cup, 
out  of  which  the  young  poet  and  his  roystering  compan- 
ions were  wont  to  quaff  bumpers  of  Burgundy  wine  dur- 
ing: the  revels  at  Newstead. 


Byron.  277 

Byron  and  the  Sexton, 

When  Byron  left  England  after  liis  domestic  troubles, 
life  and  death,  the  festal  scene  and  the  grave  followed 
him  in  alternate  experience.  Whenever  he  visited  a  city, 
after  mingling  in  its  wildest  dissipation,  he  often  would 
pass  an  hour  in  the  cemetery  to  commune  with  mortality. 
A  notable  instance  of  this  kind  occurred  at  Bologna, 
where  he  visited  the  highest  circles,  and  then  immediately 
went  to  the  Cettora  cemetery,  lie  wrote  an  English 
friend  a  full  description  of  the  spot,  and  said  tlie  sexton 
afforded  him  much  interest,  especially  as  he  had  a  collec- 
tion of  the  skulls  of  former  friends,  each  labelled  on  the 
forehead.  Taking  down  one  of  them,  he  said :  "  This 
was  brother  Berro,  a  monk,  who  died  at  forty  —  one  of 
the  best  of  my  friends.  I  begged  his  head  of  the  breth- 
ren after  his  decease,  and  they  gave  it  me.  I  cleaned  it, 
and  here  it  is  in  good  preservation.  He  was  the  merriest 
fellow  you  ever  knew,  but  I  shall  nevei-  see  his  like  again." 
One  cannot  be  surprised  that  the  scene  recalled  to  the 
poet  the  grave  digger  in  Hamlet,  with  his  "  Alas,  poor 
Yorick !"  of  which  it  was  indeed  a  perfect  reproduction. 

Italian  Epitaphs. 
This  sexton  told  the  poet  that  in  eighteen  years  they 
had  buried  53,000  ])ersons  in  that  inclosure.  Many  of 
these  were  his  own  acquaintances,  and  he  said  he  felt  a 
strong  attachment  to  what  he  called  his  "  dead  people." 
The  poet  copied  (in  the  above-mentioned  letter)  some  of 
the  Italian  epitaphs,  such  as 

Martini  Luigi, 
Implora  pace. 

"  Can  anything,"  said  he,  "  be  more  expressive  of 
pathos  ?  "     Another  was  as  follows : 

LUCREZIA  PiCINI, 

Implora  eterna  quiete. 


278  Our  Book. 

"  These  few  words,'*'  said  the  poet  to  his  friend,  "are  all 

that  can  be  said  or  thought.  The  dead  had  enough  of  life; 

all  they  wanted  was  peace,  and  this  they  implore."      No 

doubt  the  poet  was  gratified  to  see  a  reproduction  of  his 

own  idea. 

When  time  or  soon  or  late  shall  bring 

The  dreamless  sleep  tliat  lulls  the  dead 
Oblivion,  may  thy  languid  wing 

Wave  gently  o'er  my  dying  head. 

Oblivion  is  the  highest  boon  to  bad  men,  but  Chris- 
tianity gives  the  assurance  of  eternal  life.  That  Byron 
had  no  desire  (in  case  he  died  abroad)  to  have  his  remains 
carried  to  England,  is  evident  from  the  conclusion  of  the 
same  letter :  "  I  hope  that  whoever  may  survive  me  and 
shall  see  me  put  into  the  foreigners'  burying  ground  will 
have  these  words  inscribed  over  me  and  notliing  more.  I 
trust  they  won't  think  of  pickling  me  and  bringing  ine 
home.  I  believe  the  thought  would  drive  me  mad  on  my 
death-bed  could  I  suppose  that  any  of  my  friends  would 
be  base  enough  to  convey  my  carcass  back  to  your  soil." 
This  was  written  in  1819,  when  the  poet  was  thirty-one. 
Five  years  afterward  he  died  at  Missolonghi,  and,  con- 
trary to  his  request,  his  remains  wei'e  borne  to  the  an- 
cestral vault  at  the  Hucknell  church,  near  Newstead. 

Byeon's  influence  over  Scott. 
It  was  to  Byron  that  the  v^orld  owes  Scott's  concen- 
tration on  fiction,  for  the  latter  had  previously  devoted 
his  genius  to  poetry  until  Byron's  genius,  drove  him  from 
the  field,  and  on  the  appearance  of  Childe  Harold,  the 
author  of  Marmion  and  the  Lady  of  the  Lake  acknowl- 
edged his  inferiority  and  turned  to  prose.  Sir  William 
Gell,  who  was  living  at  Naples  when  Scott  visited  that 
place  in  pursuit  of  health,  mentions  that  the  latter  stated 
that  he  longed  to  turn  to  poetry  ftnd  see  if  he  could  equal 
the  rhymes  of  his  youth. 


Byron.  279 

"  I  asked  him,"  says  Sir  William,  "  why  he  ever  relin- 
quished poetry  ? "  "  Because  Byron  het  me,"  said  he, 
pronouncing  heat  short.  I  rejoined  "  I  could  remember 
as  many  passages  of  his  poetry  as  of  Byron's."  "  That 
may  be,"  he  replied,  "  but  he  het  me  out  of  the  field  in 
the  description  of  strong  passions  and  in  deep-seated 
knowledge  of  the  human  heart,  so  I  gave  up  poetry  for 
the  time." 

Byron  and  Shelley. 

The  two  poets  had  each  left  England  to  escape  popular 
opinion,  and  were  at  the  time  of  the  latter's  death  living 
in  Italy.  Shelley's  sad  fate  was  primarily  due  to  his 
benevolence.  Leigh  Hunt,  who  was  a  broken-down 
literary  adventurer,  had  come  to  Italy  to  seek  Byron's 
assistance  in  some  literary  project,  and  Shelley  lost  no 
time  in  calling  on  his  unfortunate  countryman.  He 
sailed  from  his  sea-shore  dwelling  to  Leghorn  for  that 
purpose,  and  had  an  interview  with  Hunt,  but  was  lost 
on  his  return.  Both  Byron  and  Hunt  witnessed  the 
funeral  pile,  which  was  a  sad  and  affecting  scene.  Shel- 
ley's heart  was  found  untouched,  and  was  taken  to  Rome 
and  buried  near  tlie  grave  of  Keats.  Of  this  literary 
quartette  Hunt  was  the  only  one  who  returned  alive  to 
England,  where  the  remainder  of  his  career  was  marked 
by  painful  vicissitude,  and  then  Dickens  intensified  his  fate 
by  reproducing  him  in  the  slipshod  Harold  Skimpole. 

His  Artificiality. 
Byron  has  for  a  half  century  been  the  most  popular  of 
poets.  The  reason  of  this  is  found  in  his  power  over  the 
human  heart,  or  mastery  over  the  emotional  nature,  in 
which  he  is  only  excelled  by  Shakespeare.  With  the 
exception  of  the  latter  Byron  stands  alone.  Every  youth 
or  maiden  who  is  disappointed  in  love  turns  immediately 
to  Byron  for  consolation,  and  finds  a  full  response  in  the 


280  Our  Book. 

poet's  wounded  heart.  In  precocity  he  is  only  excelled 
by  Chatterton.  All  his  works  indeed  were  between 
eighteen  and  thirty-four,  and  he  was  at  twenty-five  the 
greatest  poet  of  that  day.  We  have  no  similar  instance 
of  a  first-class  author  culminating  at  so  early  a  period,  and 
nothing  written  after  that  added  to  his  fame.  Precocity 
is  generally  cansed  by  disease,  and  this  was  the  case  with 
Byron  whose  works  display  that  rapid  and  unhealthy 
development  which  so  often  accompanies  a  defective 
and  deformed  moral  character.  Whatever  in  his  works 
has  a  better  aspect  is  evidently  artificial.  He  played  a 
role  before  the  public  which  awoke  a  degree  of  admira- 
tion, and  this  double  life  was  so  well  performed  that  the 
world  was  for  a  long  time  deceived. 

Byron's  artificial  sentiment  is  shown  in  his  poetry, 
while  his  true  character  is  revealed  by  his  letters.  He 
makes  a  showy  appeal  to  his  wife  in  "  Fare  thee  well,  and 
if  forever,"  and  some  readers  may  consider  it  the  heai't- 
broken  utterance  of  an  injured  husband,  but  his  letters  at 
that  very  time  speak  of  her  in  a  contemptuous  tone,  and 
while  writing  in  this  melting  mood,  he  was  really  wallow- 
ing in  the  licentiousness  of  Venice.  Thus  we  have  two 
Byrons,  the  artificial  and  the  real.  The  first  is  always 
seeking  sympathy  for  his  misfortunes,  is  eloquent  over 
disappointed  affection,  is  blasted  by  destiny  and  finally  is 
deserted  by  one  who  should  have  remained  true  till  the 
very  last,  and  he  is  inspired  by  these  crushing  sorrows 
to  the  highest  flights  of  maudlin  poetry.  The  second  is 
the  sybarite  who  married  solely  to  win  a  fortune. 

Bykon's  noblest  Utterance. 
On  March  4,  1824,  he  wrote  to  his  physician.  Dr.  Ken- 
nedy, who  warned  bim  against  the  ill  effect  of  the  Greek 
climate  :  "  I  am  not  unaware  of  the  precarious  state  of  my 
health,  but  it  is  proper  I  shall  remain  in  Greece,  and  it 


Byeon.  281 

were  better  to  die  doing  something  than  nothing."  This 
I  hold  to  be  Byron's  best  utterance.  He  had  wasted  his 
opportunities,  and  whou  at  last  life  had  became  a  burden 
he  found  some  satisfaction  in  serving  a  patriotic  cause,  and 
hcthen  learned  the  true  object  of  life — usefulness.  The 
lesson,  however,  came  too  late,  and  on  the  19th  of  the 
next  month  he  died.  His  last  letter  was  written  twelve 
days  before  his  death,  and  it  closes  with  the  words  "  we 
are  all  doing  the  best  we  can."  Had  he  adopted  this  les- 
son earlier  how  different  would  have  been  his  record  ! 

Moore's  reminiscences  lead  us  into  Byron's  state  of 
mind  previous  to  his  marriage.  He  had  offered  himself 
to  another  lady,  but  his  suit  was  unsuccessful.  He  there- 
upon thought  of  Miss  Millbanke,  who  had  previously  de- 
clined his  hand,  and  wrote  her  a  letter  renewing  the  of- 
fer, which  was  accepted.  The  idea  of  such  an  emotional 
creature  as  Byron  offering  his  heart  and  hand  by  letter 
seems  really  ridiculous,  and  yet  this  was  the  mechanical 
way  in  which  he  sought  Miss  Millbanke. 

A  very  remarkable  illustration  of  the  lack  of  heart  in 
Byron's  matrimonial  life  is  found  in  the  following  inci- 
dent. Only  three  months  after  an  event  which  should 
have  rendered  him  the  happiest  of  mankind,  he  expressed 
his  feelings  in  the  lines  beginning  thus  : 

There's  not  a  joy  the  world  can  give,  like  that  it  takes  away; 
When  the  glow  of  early  tliought  ducliues  in  feelings'  dull  decay. 
'Tis  not  on  youth's  smooth  cheek  the  blush  alone  that  fades  so  fast, 
But  the  tender  bloom  of  heart  is  gone  e'er  youth  itself  has  past. 

These  painful  lines  conclude  with  the  verse : 

O  could  I  feel  as  once  I  felt,  or  be  what  I  have  been ; 
Or  weep  as  once  I  could  have  wept,  o'er  many  a  vanished 

scene; 
As  springs  in  deserts  found  seem  sweet,  all  brackish  though 

they  be, 
So  througli  the  withering  waste  of  life  those  tears  would  flow 

to  me. 

How  strange  a  commentary  on  married  life  is  the  fact 
36 


282  OuK  Book. 

that  it  could  iuspire  such  sentimonts !  Still  more  strange 
is  it  that  the  author  could  ask  one  so  recently  his  bride  to 
copy  them  for  the  press. 

Byron  married  an  heiress  and  one  of  the  highest  order 
of  aristocracy.  Tom  Moore,  on  the  other  hand,  married 
an  obscure  actress.  The  former  found  matrimony  a  hard 
bondage,  while  the  other  enjoyed  an  unbroken  career  of 
domestic  happiness.  His  wife  was  his  "  Bessie,"  while 
her  pet  name  for  him  was  "  Bird."  How  like  love  in  a 
cottage  does  such  life  seem,  and  it  was  certainly  a  near 
approach  to  the  poetic  idea  of  matrimonial  bliss. 

V^OLCANic  Outbursts. 

Byron  wrote  the  Corsair  in  ten  days.  He  could  have 
boasted,  however,  a  much  more  remarkable  instance  of 
rapidity  in  the  Bride  of  Abydos.  The  Corsair  contains 
nearly  1,900  lines,  while  the  Bride  of  Abydos  contains 
1,200.  As  the  latter  was  written  in  four  days,  it  indi- 
cates a  much  more  rapid  pace  in  Pegasus.  The  Corsair 
was  written  in  London  in  1814,  the  author  then  being 
twenty-six.  The  Bride  of  Abydos  was  written  a  few 
weeks  previously.  Their  popularity  was  remarkable,  and 
14,000  copies  of  the  Corsair  wei-e  sold  in  a  week.  These 
productions  indicate  not  so  much  the  intellectnal  powers 
of  the  poet  as  the  volcanic  nature  of  his  brain.  The  lat- 
ter broke  out  in  brilliant  eruptions,  and  then  sank  into 
indifference.  After  the  two  productions  above  referred 
to  he  remained  quiet  for  nearly  seven  months,  when 
another  outburst  took  place,  and  Lara  delighted  the  world. 
The  poet  then  had  a  rest  for  more  than  a  year,  when  the 
Siege  of  Corinth  appeared.  As  these  outbursts  occurred 
during  three  years  of  dissipated  life,  they  naturally  sug- 
gest the  occasional  efforts  of  genius  to  rise  above  the  de- 
basement of  his  nature.     They  seem  due  to  a  series  of 


i3yK0N.  283 

tremendous  conflicts  between  the  beautiful  and  the  vile, 
in  which,  as  is  too  often  the  case,  the  latter  eventually 
triumphed.  These  poems  contain  the  finest  desc'ri})tions 
of  moonlight  in  our  language,  and  are  ricli  in  occasional 
allusions  to  classic  scenes,  one  of  which  I  cannot  but 
quote : 

The  winds  are  high  and  Helles'  tide 

Rolls  darkly  heaving  to  the  main, 
And  night's  descending  shadows  hide 

The  fields  with  blood  bedewed  in  vain. 
The  desert  of  old  Priam's  pride, 

The  tombs,  sole  relics  of  iiis  reign, 
All  —  save  immortal  dreams  that  could  beguile 
The  blind  old  man  of  Scio's  rocky  isle. 

How  little  could  Byron  have  imagined  that  the  time 
would  come  when  Priam's  deserts  should  reveal  their 
hidden  testimony,  and  that  the  immortal  dreams  of  Homer 
should  be  turned  to  reality  by  the  researches  of  the  anti- 
quary. 

Byron  had  a  remarkably  small  head,  and  Moore  indeed 
says  it  was  so  "  small  that  it  was  out  of  proportion  to  his 
face.''  His  forehead,  though  high,  was  narrow,  but  these 
defects  were  lost  in  the  fascinating  though  sensuous  beauty 
of  his  countenance.  The  relative  proportion  of  brain 
was  never  known,  as  no  post-mortera  examination  was 
made.  Gibbon  was  the  first  author  whose  condition  was 
surgically  examined  after  death,  and  the  next  was  Walter 
Scott.  Strange  to  say,  though  Scott  had  the  finest  fore- 
head of  his  day,  his  brain  was  found  to  be  small  and  the 
cranium  was  very  thin.  Such  are  the  facts,  and  phre- 
nology must  meet  them. 

Bteon  and  Dallas. 
Having  previously  referred  to   the  latter,  I  will  add 
some  personal  facts.  Robert  CharltonDallas  was  a  littera- 
teur of  respectable  rank,  but  his  works  were  not  remnn- 


284  OuK  Book. 

erative,  and  though  he  wrote  and  compiled  forty-six  vol- 
umes, he  hardly  holds  a  place  in  literature.  His  sister 
married  George  Anson  Byron,  uncle  of  the  poet,  and  this 
led  to  an  acquaintance.  Byron  found  Dallas  of  great  use, 
for  he  was  not  only  an  encouraging  critic,  but  being  more 
than  thirty  years  older  had  an  influence  on  other  features 
of  character. 

Byron's  first  book — Hours  of  Idleness — was  printed  for 
the  author  in  a  country  town  which  happened  to  be  conven- 
ient. When,  however,  he  wanted  to  attack  the  reviewers, 
he  desired  to  appear  in  London,  and  this  rendered  the  expe- 
rience of  Dallas  of  great  value.  Dallas  had  the  satire  pub- 
lished by  Cawthorn,  an  obscure  bookseller,  for  no  promi- 
nent house  would  incur  the  ill-will  of  all  the  literati  of 
the  day. 

Byron  found  the  satire  well  received,  and  having  had 
full  satisfaction  in  slaughtering  not  only  his  critics  but 
most  of  the  literary  world,  sailed  on  an  Oriental  tour. 
Soon  after  his  return  he  showed  Dallas  a  poem  whose 
publication,  "as  he  had  done  with  authorship,  he  intended 
to  leave  for  those  who  should  come  after  him,  if  deemed 
worthy  of  publishing."  Dallas,  however,  discerned  its 
true  character  and  determined  it  should  be  published  at 
once  and  by  some  better  house  than  Cawthorne.  For  this 
purpose  he  submitted  it  to  Murray,  who  first  consulted 
the  highest  critical  authority  in  London.  This  was  Gif- 
ford,  editor  of  the  Quarterly,  whose  full  approval  of 
Cliilde  Harold  led  Murray  to  undertake  the  work.  It 
proved  a  grand  success  and  thenceforth  Murray  was 
Byron's  chief  publisher  —  but  how  much  the  world  owes 
Dallas  as  well  as  the  wonderful  poet ! 

Friendly  Ckiticism. 
Dallas  felt  the  responsibility  of  his  position  as  Byron's 


Byron.  285 

literary  accoucJieur,  and  therefore  ventured  some  bold 
criticisms  —  to  one  of  which  Byron  replies  as  follows : 

I  have  shown  my  respect  for  your  suggestions  by  adopting  them. 
I  received  from  Murray  a  proof  whicli  I  requested  him  to  show 
you,  so  that  anything  wliich  might  have  escaped  my  observation 
may  be  detected.  I  will  not  apologize  for  the  trouble  I  have 
given  you,  though  I  ought  to  do  so  —  but  I  have  worn  out  my  po- 
litest periods,  and  can  only  say  that  I  am  much  obliged  to  you. 

Byron  showed  his  sense  of  obligation  by  presenting 
Dallas  the  copyright,  and  this,  indeed,  was  much  better 
than  any  apology. 

It  may  be  added  as  one  of  the  most  interesting  literary 
secrets  that  Byron  never  knew  that  the  caustic  critique  in 
the  Edinburgh  Review  was  by  Brougham.  He  always  im- 
puted it  to  Jeffrey,  whom  he  not  only  slashes  in  his  satire, 
but  also  says  in  his  latest  poem : 

Dear  Jeffrey,  once  my  most  redoubted  foe, 

****** 

However,  I  forgive  him,  and  I  trust 
He  will  forgive  himself  —  if  not,  I  must. 

Byron  had  found  Dallas  useful  in  opening  the  way  of 
publication,  but  he  became  restive  under  the  moral  sug- 
gestions of  his  critic,  and  their  intercoui-se  terminated  with 
the  publication  of  Childe  Harold.  When  Byron  died, 
Dallas,  who  was  in  reduced  circumstances,  endeavored,  as 
I  have  previously  said,  to  ])ublish  the  poet's  family  cor- 
i-espondence,  but  was  prevented  l)y  an  injunction.  It  is 
not  probable  that  tlicy  contained  anything  unfit  for  the 
public,  but  Byron's  sister  Augusta  was  determined  to  stop 
gossip  as  much  as  possible.  Dallas,  however,  improved 
the  opportunity  to  begin  his  reminiscences,  which  were 
never  very  popular.  He  died  only  six  months  after  the 
poet,  his  age  being  three  score  and  ten,  while  the  latter 
was  only  thirty-six. 

To  return  to  the  satire  which  Dallas  assisted  in  print- 
ing—  Byron,  as  he  mingled  among  literary  men,  became 


286  OuK  Book. 

ashamed  of  his  early  wrath,  and  bitterly  regretted  some 
portions.  He  began  by  suppressing  his  attack  on  Scott, 
but  ended  by  destroying  the  fifth  and  last  edition,  of 
which  only  one  copy  survived,  that  being  in  the  possession 
of  a  friend. 

Three  fold  Request. 
In  early  manhood  and  while  living  atNewstead  Abbey, 
Byron  expressed  the  desire  to  be  buried  in  the  same 
vault  with  his  favorite  dog,  and  he  even  incorporated  it 
in  his  will.  Years  afterward  while  living  abroad  and 
embittered  against  his  country  by  what  he  considered 
unjust  public  opinion,  he  declared  his  wish  if  he  died  in 
a  foreign  land  to  be  buried  there.  In  Childe  Harold, 
however,  he  utters  the  following  solemn  thought : 

Should  I  leave  behind 
The  inviolate  island  of  the  wise  and  free, 
And  seek  a  home  by  a  remoter  sea, 

And  should  I  lay 
My  ashes  in  a  soil  which  is  not  mine. 
My  spirit  shall  resume  it  —  if  we  may 
Unbodied  choose  a  sanctuary.     I  twine 
My  hope  of  being  remembered  in  my.line 
With  my  land's  language. 

That  hope  is  now  realized  to  a  degree  beyond  the  poet's 
expectation,  and  he  will  hold  distinction  in  literature  as 
long  as  his  "land's  language"  exists. 

Literary  Copartnerships. 
The  most  celebrated  of  these  combinations  was  Beau- 
mont and  Fletcher,  whose  works  are  now  only  known  by 
this  united  name.  Beaumont  died  the  same  year  with 
Shakespeare  —  his  age  being  only  thirty-one,  while 
Fletcher  died  the  same  year  Shakespeare's  collected  works 
were  printed  —  his  age  being  forty-nme.  Each  of  these 
men  published  separate  productions,  but  they  are  still 
only  known  in  literature  in  the  above-mentioned  union. 


FITZ  GREENE   HALLECK. 


JOSEPH   RODMAN  DRAKE. 


LiTERAKY    CorAKTNEKSniPS.  287 

Au^Jtller  iuteresting  iustance  of  the  same  kind  is  found 
in  Horace  and  James  Smith,  whose  partnership  produced 
Rejected  Addresses. 

Dr.  Johnson  wrote  the  closing  Hnes  in  Goldsmith's 
poem  "  The  Traveller,''  and  Fitz  Greene  Halleck  did  the 
same  good  service  to  Drake's  "American  Flag,"  his  addi- 
tion being  as  follows: 

Forever  float  that  standard  sheet, 

Where  breathes  the  foe  but  falls  before  us? 

With  Freedom's  soil  beneath  our  feet, 
And  Freedom's  banner  waving  o'er  us. 

Other  American  CoMiiiNATioNS. 

One  of  the  earliest  instances  is  found  in  the  Echo, 
which  was  the  united  effort  of  Timothy  Dwight  and  Rich- 
ard Alsop,  and  which  was  marked  by  both  wit  and  liter- 
ary ability.  The  Echo  appeared  as  a  series  of  anony- 
mous articles,  both  prose  and  verse,  in  Joel  Barlow's 
paper,  the  American  Mercury,  issued  in  Hartford.  The 
date  was  1791,  but  they  were  afterward  published  in  col- 
lected form.  Later  on  two  other  poetical  wits  amused 
New  York  witli  their  joint  productions.  I  refer  to  tlie 
literary  firm  of  Croker  &  Co.,  which  once  so  deeply  inter- 
ested the  readers  of  the  Evening  Post.  Croker  &  Co. 
were  Fitz  Greene  Halleck  and  Joseph  Rodman  Drake, 
whose  death  dissolved  the  copartnership.  Carrying  out 
the  same  idea,  Bryant  joined  Robert  C.  Sands  and  Gulian 
C.  Verplanck,  in  writing  Tales  of  Glauber  Spa,  and  also 
The  Talisman. 

One  of  the  most  felicitous  literary  copartnerships  was 
that  of  the  brothers  Duyckink,  whose  mutual  labors  gave 
the  world  the  Cyclopedia  of  American  Literature  —  a 
work  of  that  research  to  which  they  were  adapted.  N.  P. 
Willis  and  George  P.  Morris,  maintained  a  literarj^  co- 
partnership of  twenty  years  —  for  though  some  of  their 


288  OuB  Book. 

works  were  published  separately,  their  hardest  labor  was 
mntuallj  devoted  to  the  New  York  Mirror,  and  later  on 
to  the  Home  Journal. 

Lamb,  Lovell  and  CoLERroGE. 

Three  copartners  is  certainly  very  rare  in  authorship, 
and  the  most  striking  instance  is  found  in  that  trio  of 
young  poets  whose  acquaintance  began  in  poverty. 
Charles  Lamb  was  a  literary  clerk,  and  Coleridge,  who 
had  been  a  fellow  charity  scholar,  was  ambitious  to  try 
his  wing ;  Lovell  was  a  young  Quaker  of  poetical  taste, 
who  never  reached  fame.  These  beginners  induced 
Cottle  to  issne  their  joint  poems,  which  appeared  in  1796 
and  proved  a  failure,  but  the  book  has  become  a  literary 
curiosity.  Coleridge  then  united  with  Wordsworth  in  a 
joint  volume  entitled  "  Lyrical  Ballads,"  which  Cottle 
published,  and  this  too  proved  a  failure,  though  it  con- 
tained the  Ancient  Mariner.  Lamb  and  Lovell  also  made 
another  poetical  venture,  but  failure  again  was  their  fate. 

Thencefoi'th,  Lamb  relinquished  all  such  combinations, 
excepting  the  assistance  he  afforded  his  unfortunate  sister 
Mary.  She  had  a  literary  turn,  and  the  brother  was 
happy  to  lend  the  intiuence  of  his  name  to  her  produc- 
tions —  even  coming  down  to  a  joint  book  of  "  Poetry 
for  Children."  Here  we  have  the  most  beautiful  aspect 
of  the  poor  clerk's  character  —  his  devotion  to  the  sister 
whose  misfortune  was  the  chief  burden  of  his  life,  but 
whose  society  during  lucid  intervals,  was  so  valued;  and 
here  one  finds  the  most  interesting  of  all  literary  copart- 
nerships. The  best  of  their  joint  productions  is  Tales 
from  Shakespeare,  which  still  holds  a  place  in  literature. 

Having  mentioned  the  Castle  of  Indolence  it  may  be 
added  by  way  of  explanation,  that  its  author  (Thomson) 
was  the  victim  of  constitutional  sloth.     "When  he  became 


CuEious  Origin.  289 

rich  and  thus  deprived  of  the  spur  which  had  made  him 
labor,  he  yielded  to  the  fascinations  of  indolence,  but  soon 
found  them  changed  into  a  curse.  He  seems  to  have 
striven  in  vain  against  this  temptation,  and  then  as  a 
matter  of  conscience  he  wrote  a  poem  to  warn  all  others 
against  such  a  fate.  It  begins  with  the  blandishments  of 
opulent  indolence,  but  ends  in  horror.  We  find  in  this 
poem  the  first  use  of  that  oft- used  expression,  "  killing 
time,"  but  I  will  quote  it  in  its  context  thus : 

"  Their  only  labor  was  to  kill  the  time, 
And  labor  dire  it  is  and  weary  woe." 

Yes,  killing  time  is  as  painful  as  it  is  laborious,  and  an 
additional  proof  is  found  in  Charles  Lamb,  who  was  re- 
tired on  a  pension  at  the  age  of  fifty,  this  being  the  rule  at 
the  India  House.  Writing  to  a  friend  he  says  :  "  I  pity 
you  for  over  work,  but  no  work  is  worse.  The  mind 
preys  on  itself,  the  most  unwholesome  food.  I  formerly 
bragged  I  could  not  have  too  much  time,  now  I  have  a 
surfeit.  I  have  killed  an  hour  or  two  in  this  poor  scrawl." 
This  lesson  should  not  be  lost  on  those  of  ray  readers  who 
are  inclined  to  repine  at  excessive  labor. 

Inlaying  and  Illusteating. 

One  of  the  curious  features  in  literary  taste  is  the 
present  style  of  special  illustration.  Those  who  wish  to 
indulge  in  such  a  task  obtain  an  unbound  copy  of  a  work, 
and  if  possible  have  it  printed  in  large  quarto.  They 
then  improve  every  opportunity  for  purchasing  engrav- 
ings, and  even  MS.  letters  which  illustrate  the  work. 

One  of  the  most  elaborate  works  of  this  kind  is  a  copy 
of  the  Life  and  Letters  of  Washington  Irving,  which  was 
valued  at  $5,000.  Another  still  more  remarkable  in- 
stance is  found  in  an  illustrated  copy  of  Dr.  Francis' 
Address  to  the  Historical  Society  on  Old  New  York. 


290 


Our  Book. 


The  Historical  Society  of  which  he  was  then  the  oldest 
member,  invited  him  on  its  fiftieth  anniversary,  to  deliver 
an  address,  which  reviewed  the  changes  and  progress  of 
the  city  in  a  very  interesting  manner,  and  to  this  work  I 
have  just  referred.  Dr.  Francis  saw  New  York  increase 
from  thirty  thousand  inhabitants  to  twenty  times  that 
number,  and  yet  this  advance,  great  as  it  must  have  ap- 
peared to  such  a  man,  is  evidently  only  the  beginning  of 
that  vast  development  which  will  eventually  be  reached 
by  the  American  metropolis. 


JOHN   W.    FKANCIS. 


Thomas  Paine. 
The  question  is  sometimes  asked,  was  Paine  an  atheist, 
and  my  reply  is  no.  He  avowed  belief  in  the  existence 
of  a  Deity,  but  denied  the  claims  of  Christianity,  which 
he  attacked  in  a  very  rabid  manner.  As  a  political  writer 
he  had  no  equal  during  the  revolution.  He  was  one  of 
that  class  of  men  which  live  too  long.  Had  he  died  before 
publishing  the  Age  of  Reason,  he  would  have  ranked  with 
Jefferson,  who  was  equally  sceptical,  but  had  better  mental 
balance.     Paine  died  in  New  York  in  1809,  and  was 


Thomas  Paine.  291 

buried  in  New  Rochellc ;  but  when  "William  Cobbett,  the 
noted  reformer  visited  America,  he  had  the  bones  ex- 
humed in  order  that  they  should  honor  the  land  of  their 
birth.  Tliey  were  taken  to  England,  but  no  report  was 
ever  made  of  their  burial,  and  it  has  been  stated  that 
the  box  that  contained  them  was  taken  by  mistake  to  a 
public  store,  and  they  were  forgotten.  No  doubt  they 
now  rest  in  an  obscure  grave. 

No  one  knows  when  Paine  became  a  sceptic.  In  one 
of  his  early  political  works  (The  Crisis),  he  refers  to  a 
Divine  Providence  favorino:  Washinjcton  and  the  Ameri- 
can  cause.  I  think  that  his  anti-Christian  notions  were 
matured  while  he  was  in  Paris,  during  the  revolution. 
There  he  wrote  the  Age  of  Reason,  which  he  sent  in  MSS. 
to  New  York  by  the  hands  of  Joel  Barlow,  and  it  was 
published  in  that  city  in  1795,  several  years  before  its 
author  returned  to  America.  While  in  France,  Paine 
did  the  best  and  the  worst  acts  of  his  life.  The  one  was 
the  book  I  have  referred  to,  the  other  was  to  vote  against 
the  condemnation  of  the  king,  in  doing  which  he  risked 
his  life.  This  act  commands  our  admiration,  but  his  attack 
on  Christianity  threw  his  good  deeds  into  shadow. 

It  may  be  remarked  that  Paine  made  one  exception  in 
his  general  attack  on  the  Scriptures.  This  was  in  favor 
of  the  book  of  Job,  which  he  affirmed  to  have  no  connec- 
tion with  the  rest  of  the  Bible.  He  was  bred  a  Quaker, 
and  in  his  denunciation  of  Christians  made  them  an  ex- 
ception. Whatever  may  be  said  against  Paine,  the  fol- 
lowing points  are  in  his  favor :  From  a  sailor  boy  he 
rose  to  be  an  English  custom  house  officer ;  then  came  to 
America  and  became  a  leader  in  the  cause  of  independ- 
ence ;  returned  to  England  and  was  indicted  for  his  Rights 
of  Man  ;  went  to  France  and  was  elected  to  the  national 
convention;    voted  with  the  king's  friends  and  lay  in 


292 


Our  Book. 


prison  eight  months,  daily  expecting  to  be  sent  to  the 
guillotine,  from  which  he  was  released  on  the  fall  of 
Robespierre.  This  is  a  striking  record  to  be  written  up 
concerning  a  poor  sailor  boy.  Paine's  error  in  writing 
the  Age  of  Reason,  recalls  Byron's  pungent  expression, 
"  But  one  sad  losel  stains  a  name  for  aye."  The  poet  aimed 
this  at  himself,  but  he  gave  Paine  a  hard  hit  in  the  Epi- 
gram on  Cobbett,  which  reads  thus : 

In  digging  up  your  bones,  Tom  Paine 

Will  Cobbett  has  done  well ; 
You  visit  him  on  earth  again. 

He'll  visit  you  in . 


Paine  was  the  author  of  the  oft  quoted  utterance, 
"  These  are  the  times  that  try  men's  souls."  He  was  a 
very  caustic  writer,  and  said  of  Sir  William  Howe  the 
bitterest  thing  every  uttered  against  a  military  leader. 
It  appeared  in  one  of  his  revolutionary  publications,  and 
was  no  doubt  read  extensively  in  the  British  army.  Per- 
haps, indeed,  it  even  reached  the  highest  authorities,  for 
Sir  William  was  soon  afterward  removed  from  com- 
mand. 


Paine  and  Grant  TIIOEBUR^f.  293 

Thomas  Paine  was  the  first  man  interviewed  for  the 
press  in  America  and  hence  the  incident  is  worth  a  brief 
reference.  The  interviewer  was  Grant  Thorburn,  who 
wrote  occasionally  for  the  press.  Paine  had  just  arrived 
from  France,  and  was  a  guest  at  the  City  Hotel  in  Broad- 
way, near  Trinity  Church.  The  scene  took  place  in  1803 
when  he  was  in  his  sixty-sixth  year  and  Thorburn's  narra- 
tive is  as  follows : 

"I  asked  the  waiter  is  Mr.  Paine  at  home?"     "  Yes." 

"In  his  room?"     "Yes." 

"Alone?"     "Yes." 

"Can  I  see  him?"     "Follow  me." 

He  ushered  me  into  a  spacious  room  where  the  table  was  set 
for  breakfast;  a  gentleman  at  the  table  writing,  another  reading 
the  paper.  At  the  furtlier  end  of  tlie  room  a  long,  lank,  coarse- 
looking  figure  stood,  with  his  back  to  the  fire;  from  the  resem- 
blance to  portaits  I  liad  seen  in  his  Rights  of  Man,  I  knew  it 
was  Paine.  "While  I  followed  the  waiter,  presuming  Paine  was 
alone,  I  was  preparing  an  exordium  to  introduce  myself  in  com- 
pany with  the  great  author  of  Common  Sense.  For  a  moment 
I  was  at  a  stand.  Says  I:  "Gentlemen,  is  Mr.  Paine  in  this 
room?"  He  stepped  toward  me  and  answered,  "My  name  is 
Paine."  I  held  out  my  hand,  and  while  I  held  his,  says  I:  "  Mr. 
Paine,  and  you,  gentlemen,  will  please  excuse  my  abrupt  entry;  I 
came,  out  of  mere  curiosity,  to  see  the  man  whose  writings  have 
made  so  much  noise  in  the  world."  Paine  answered,  "I  am  very 
glad  your  curiosity  is  so  easily  satisfied."  Says  I,  "  Good  morning, 
gentlemen,"  walked  out  and  shut  the  door  behind  me.  I  heard 
tliem  all  burst  out  into  a  loud  laugli.  Thinks  I,  they  may  laugh 
that  win;  I  have  seen  Paine,  and,  all  things  considered,  have  made 
a  good  retreat.  The  gentleman  culled  the  waiter,  and  inquired 
who  that  was.  "It  is  Thorburn,  the  seedsman."  They  reported 
the  matter  at  the  coffee-house,  and  among  their  acquaintances. 
As  the  story  traveled  it  was  told  with  all  manner  of  additions. 
One  was  that  I  told  Paine  he  was  a  rascal;  had  it  not  been  for  his 
books  I  would  never  have  left  my  native  country,  etc.,  etc.,  in 
short,  there  was  nothing  heard  for  many  days  but  Thorburn's  visit 
to  Mr.  Paine. 

Political  excitement  was  at  that  time  intense,  and  was 
combined  with  the  opposition  of  religious  circles,  which 
naturally  recoiled  from  the  author  of  the  Age  of  Reason. 
This  explains  the  action  of  the  church  with  which  Thor- 
burn M'as  connected.     To  pay  any  honor  to  an  enemy  of 


294:  OuK  Book. 

Christianity  were  an  act  which  required  discipline,  and 
Tliorburn  was  censured  and  placed  under  temporary  sus- 
pension. This  may  now  seem  very  unreasonable,  but 
things  were  very  different  then.  The  assailants  of  Chris- 
tianity were  very  aggressive,  and  the  arrival  of  Paine 
brought  them  a  powerful  ally.  Hence  those  who  gave 
them  encouragement  were  liable  to  censure. 

Paine's  Will. 
This  document  is  on  record  at  the  surrogate's  office, 
and  I  examined  it  carefully  up  as  a  matter  of  curiosity. 
Then,  thinking  that  some  of  my  readers  might  be  equally 
interested,  I  made  a  copy  of  the  opening  paragraph,  which 
in  one  point  is  unparalleled.  This  is  the  avowal  of  his 
works,  which  was  done,  I  suppose,  in  order  to  prevent 
any  other  person  laying  claim  to  them.  I  copy  as  fol- 
lows: 

The  last  will  and  testament  of  me  the  subscriber  Thomas  Paine. 
Reposing  confidence  in  my  creator  God  and  in  no  other  being  for 
I  know  no  other  neither  believe  in  any  other.  I  Thomas  Paine  of 
the  State  of  New  Fork  —  author  of  the  work  entitled  Common 
Sense  written  in  Philadelphia  in  1775  and  published  in  that  city 
in  the  beginning  of  January  1776  which  awakened  America  to  a 
Declaration  of  Independence  on  the  4th  day  of  July  following 
which  was  as  fast  as  tlie  work  could  spread  through  so  extensive 
a  country;  author  also  of  the  several  numbers  of  the  American 
Crisis  published  occasionally  during  the  progress  of  the  Revolu- 
tionary war,  the  last  is  on  tlie  peace ;  author  also  of  the  Rights  of 
Man,  parts  first  and  second  written  and  published  in  London  in 
1791  and  1792;  author  also  of  a  work  on  religion  called  Age  of 
Reason  part  the  first  and  second.  N  B  I  leave  a  third  part  by  me 
in  manuscript  and  an  answer  to  the  bishop  of  LlandafI;  author 
also  of  a  work  lately  published  entitled  Examination  of  the  pass- 
ages in  the  new  Testament  quoted  from  the  old  and  called  prophe- 
sies concerning  Jesus  Christ  and  showing  there  are  no  prophesies 
of  any  such  person ;  author  of  several  other  works  not  here  enume- 
rated; Dissertations  on  first  principles  of  government;  Decline 
and  fall  of  the  English  system  of  finance;  Agrarian  Justice  Etc  — 
make  this  my  last  will  and  testament. 

Some  of  Paine's  admirers  claim  that  he  was  the  author 

of  the  letters  of  Junius,  and  when  attention  is  called  to 


Thomas  Paine's  Namesake.  205 

the  omission  of  so  important  a  production  in  this  list  of 

his  works  thej  explain  it  by  the  assertion  made  by  Junius 

that  his  secret  should  die  with  him,  and  they  claim  that 

Paine  adhered  to  tliis  resolution.     The  public,  however, 

will  hardly  believe  that  any  man  when  making  a  final 

catalogue  of  his  works  would  omit  that  special  one  which 

would  give  him  the   highest  fame.     His  will  is  dated 

July  18,  1809,  a  few  months  before  his  death,  and  closes 

thus  : 

I  have  lived  an  honest  and  useful  life  to  mankind.  My  time 
has  been  spent  in  doing  good,  and  I  die  in  perfect  composure  and 
resignation  to  the  will  of  my  creator  God. 

He  certainly  rendered  valuable  service  to  America  dur- 
ing her  darkest  hours,  and  in  fact  never  should  have  left 
this  country.  In  such  case  it  is  not  probable  that  he 
would  ever  have  written  those  volumes  which  gave  him 
a  bad  name  and  have  often  shown  a  damaging  effect  on 
society. 

His  Namesake. 
It  may  be  observed  that  only  one  person  on  record  was 
ever  named  after  Thomas  Paine.  This  was  a  son  of 
Hubert  Treat  Paine  (signer  of  the  declaration  of  inde- 
pendence), born  amid  the  excitement  of  the  "  time  that 
tried  men's  souls."  His  father,  out  of  admiration  of  the 
author  of  the  Crisis  and  Common  Sense,  called  the  child 
"  Thomas,"  thus  making  him  "  Thomas  Paine,  Jr."  This 
did  very  well  until  the  Age  of  Reason  appeared,  when 
Thomas  Paine,  Jr.,  became  disgusted  with  his  title,  and 
at  his  request,  the  legislature  of  Massachusetts  allowed 
him  to  take  the  name  of  his  father.  He  became  a  very 
clever  writer,  and  his  best  production  —a  poem  called 
Adams  and  Liberty,  brought  him  $1,500,  this  being  the 
largest  amount  which  up  to  that  time  had  been  paid  for 
any  literary  work  of  American  origin.     When  Thon)as 


296 


Our  Book. 


Paine  returned  from  France  lie  found  that  the  rejection 
of  his  name  was  only  a  part  of  that  general  detestation 
occasioned  by  his  assault  on  Christianity. 

Boston  Memories. 

It  was  my  good  fortune  to  visit  Boston  before  it  had 
lost  the  charms  of  antiquity.  This  occurred  when  I  was 
but  a  lad  and  my  antiquarian  instinct  led  me  to  see  many 
things  which  are  now  passed  away.  One  of  these  was  John 
Hancock's  house,  which  occupied  a  prominent  place  in  Bea- 
con street.  It  was  a  story  and  a  half  structure  of  stone, 
but,  in  its  day,  was  a  grand  house.  Among  other  antiqui- 
ties I  visited  the  old  Province  house,  which  has  received 
fame  from  the  genius  of  Hawthorne.  I  also  remember 
seeing  in  the  shop  windows  a  small  book  called  Twice- 
Told  Tales,  by  this   author,    but  I  did   not  hear  them 


OLIVER  WENDELL  HOLMES. 

mentioned  in  conversation,  and,  in  fact,  they  attracted 
very  little  notice.  Hawthorne  was  then  a  custom-house 
officer  and  attended  to  the  uncongenial  service  of  watch- 
ino-  the  unloadino;  of  vessels,  but  his  leisure  hours  were 
spent  in  the  old  Province  house,  searching  the  ancient 
records,   and   thus   mastering  old   New   England   char- 


Boston  Memories. 


297 


acters.  I,  too,  loved  to  gaze  on  that  storied  building,  and, 
boy  though  I  was,  I  often  ventured  in  and  became  deeply 
interested  in  its  history  and  associations. 

How  strange  to  think  what  genius  has  since  then  been 
developed.  Oliver  "Wendell  Holmes  was  then  a  young 
physician  who  had  attracted  attention  by  some  very  clever 
poetry,  including  his  lines  on  the  frigate  Constitution. 
It  had  been  proposed  to  break  up  that  famous  ship,  but 
Holmes'  aj^peal  created  such  sensation  that  she  was  recon- 
structed and  put  into  renewed  service.  I  visited  the  navy- 
yard  at  that  time  and  saw  the  Constitution  undergoing 
this  renovating  process,  and  I  trod  with  pride  the  deck 
of  the  gallant  sliip  which  captured  the  Guerrierre  and 
the  Java. 


■WTLLIAM  E.    CHANNING. 


To  return  to  the  litterateurs  of  that  day.  Longfellow  had 
just  been  elected  professor  of  rhetoric  at  Harvard  and  had 
gone  to  Germany  to  pursue  preparatory  studies.  Harriet 
Beecher  had  just  attracted  attention  by  writing  a  tale  which 
carried  off  a  prize.  Her  father  had  moved  from  Boston  to 
Cincinnati,  leaving  Channing  the  most  popular  preacher, 
and  I  well  remember  the  pale,  thoughtful  face  of  the 
latter  as  it  appeared  in  the  pulpit. 


2^S 


OuK  Booit. 


James  E.  Lowell  was  just  venturing  into  literature  and 
his  father,  long  a  prominent  preacher,  was  succeeded 
by  Bartol,  who  then  had  recently  graduated  and  was  only 
known  as  an  able  young  man.  Emerson  was  then  attract- 
ing attention  by  his  transcendental  lectures,  which,  being 
a  novelty,  were  of  course  popular.  He  had  a  mild  voice, 
but  spoke  in  such  clear  silvery  tones  that  it  gave  additional 
charm  to  his  utterance,  and  I  remember  this  as  the  most 
important  feature  in  his  public  efforts. 


R.    W.    EMEHSON. 

When  I  visited  Boston  in  after  life  I  found  the  city 
grown  immensely  but  so  modernized  that  much  of  the 
power  by  which  it  held  me  was  gone.  It  had  become  the 
modern  Athens,  but  the  charm  of  antiquity  had  passed 
away  and  I  am  glad  that  it  is  the  old  Boston  which  lives 
in  my  memory. 

"Walter  Scott. 
Reader,  though  I  have  previously  referred  to  this  de- 
lightful author,  you  will  perhaps  be  willing  to  accept  a 
few  more  personal  incidents  —  among  which  his  magna- 


Walter  Scott,  299 

nimity  holds  prominence.  Let  me  say  that  one  of  the 
noblest  features  in  literary  life  is  that  large-heartedness 
which  some  authors  have  shown  toward  rivals  or  assail- 
ants. Having  already  mentioned  Pope's  kindness  to 
John  Dennis,  who  had  attacked  him  in  the  bitterest  man- 
ner, I  find  another  striking  instance  in  Scott.  Byron 
lampooned  him  with  a  severity  which  was  keenly  felt,  in 
his  English  Bards  and  Scotch  Reviewers,  with  no  reason 
except  that  he  was  enraged  at  the  Edinburgh  Review  and 
wanted  to  abuse  everybody  within  reach.  Scott's  reply 
was  to  review  Byron's  poems  in  one  of  the  quarterlies, 
with  all  the  enthusiasm  their  beauty  awakened. 

Byron  immediately  sent  Scott  an  apology  and  the  allu- 
sion to  the  latter  was  subsequently  eliminated  from  the 
satire,  though  it  still  appears  in  the  American  editions. 
These  two  poets  met  in  London  in  1815,  tlie  scene  being 
the  parlor  of  John  Murray,  the  princely  book-seller. 
They  then  became  friends  for  life  and  exchanged  gifts 
hke  the  old  heroes  in  Homer.  Scott's  present  was  a  beau- 
tiful dagger,  mounted  with  gold,  which  once  belonged  to 
a  Moorish  bey,  and  Byron  reciprocated  by  sending  a  sil- 
ver vase  containing  human  relics  found  in  one  of  the 
ancient  sepulchres  of  Athens. 

Literary  By-Play. 

Scott's  love  of  perplexing  the  public  led  to  some  things 
which  really  have  a  humorous  aspect.  I  have  previously 
referred  to  his  publishing  the  Tales  of  My  Landlord 
anonymously,  omitting  even  "  by  the  author  of  Waver- 
ley,"  his  object  being  to  increase  the  mystery  which 
clothed  those  wonderful  productions.  He  was  at  that 
time,  however,  well  known  as  Walter  Scott,  the  poet,  but 
even,  in  this  specialty,  he  felt  a  craving  for  mystery. 
Consequently,  though  his  name  graced  the  Lay  of  the 


306  Our  Book. 

Last  Minstrel,  Marmion,  The  Lady  of  the  Lake  and 
Rokeby,  yet  when  he  issued  the  latter  he  determined  to 
give  the  impression  that  he  had  an  imitator.  Hence, 
within  two  months  after  the  publication  of  Kokeby  the 
Bridal  of  Triermain  appeared.  It  was  anonymous,  and 
though  it  bore  strong  resemblance  to  Scott,  yet  the  lite- 
rary world  inferred  that  lie  could  not  be  the  author  be- 
cause the  preface  had  several  Greek  expressions,  and 
Scott  knew  nothing  of  that  language.  True  enough,  but 
he  had  employed  a  friend  of  high  classical  attainment 
to  insert  that  very  Greek,  and  in  this  way  the  public 
was  blinded,  which  afforded  the  author  much  amuse- 
ment. 

Abbottsford. 
Scott  was  eight  years  in  becoming  a  novelist  and  he 
endured  an  equal  and  even  greater  delay  in  building  and 
finishing  Abbottsford.  He  purchased  this  place  simply 
because  he  was  obliged  to  "  flit"  from  Ashtiel,  whei-e  he 
had  first  established  a  home.  His  lease  had  expired  and 
he  writes  to  Ballantjaie  tliat  he  had  just  "  resolved  to 
purchase  a  piece  of  ground  sufficient  for  a  cottage  and  two 
fields."  The  "  piece  of  ground  "  contained  one  hundred 
acres,  and  the  property  cost  £4,000.  Scott  wrote  to  a 
friend  in  1811  that  his  plan  was  to  have  two  spare  bed- 
rooms, and  adds  concerning  the  place,  in  the  words  of 
Touchstone :  "  It  is  an  ill-favored  thing,  but  my  own." 
A  year  afterward  he  writes  :  "  Abbottsford  begins  to  look 
the  whimsical,  gay,  odd  cabin  tliat  we  had  chalked  out. 
The  old  farm-house  is  not  without  picturesque  effect." 
From  this  humble  beginning  he  built  up  his  grand  estab- 
lishment, which  became  the  most  interesting  dwelling  in 
Great  Britain.  It  was  finished  in  1824,  after  a  gradual 
progress  of  thirteen  years,  during  which  the  author's  en- 


WALTER    SCOTT. 


Walter  Soott.  301 

ergies  had  been,  to  a  large  degree,  devoted  to  this  great 

object.     Tlie  tempting  territory  had  increased  tenfold,  but 

unfortunately  he  could  not  apply  to  it  the  satisfactory 

words  of  Touchstone,  "  it  is  my  own."     In  reality,  he 

was  even   then,  through  Ballantyne's  bad  management, 

insolvent  and  daily  sinking  deeper  in  ruin. 

The  year  referred  to  was  the  happiest  in  Scott's  life, 

and  clouds  immediately  began  to  gather  which  soon  brought 

hopeless  bankruptcy.    From  the  cottage  and  hundred-acre 

farm    arose   that   passion    for    accumulation    concerning 

which  Horace  says,  "  But  growing  wealth  brings  thirst 

for  more,"  adding  with  great  truth, 

Who  to  himself  denies  great  store 
To  him  the  willing  gods  give  more, 
Naked  I  seek  contentment's  door, 
And  from  the  paths  of  wealth  retreat. 

Happy  would  it  have  been  for  Scott  had  such  philoso- 
phy controlled  him.  In  that  case  Abbottsford  would  have 
remained  a  cottage,  but  it  would  have  been  preferable  to 
the  ruinous  grandeur  of  a  baronial  residence. 

The  thirteen  years  during  which  Scott  was  constructing 
Abbottsford  formed  the  most  brilliant  period  of  his  lite- 
rary career.  After  the  grand  structure  had  been  finished 
he  never  produced  a  first-class  work.  An  immediate  de- 
cadence was  noticed,  especially  in  The  Betrothed,  and  his 
publishers  expressed  their  opinion  that  he  was  "over- 
cropping," or,  in  other  words,  writing  too  much.  Scott's 
craving  for  territory  continued  with  full  power,  and  only 
a  few  months  before  his  failure  he  was  negotiating  for 
an  extensive  land  purchase- 
Notwithstanding  this  towering  ambition  Scott  was  a 
man  of  unpretending  character  and  had  a  vivid  sense  of 
the  evanescent  nature  of  earthly  things.  In  1813,  he  men- 
tions with  much  feeling  in  a  letter  to  Byron,  the  follow- 
ing inscription  on  a  signet-ring  :  "  And  this  too  shall  pass 


302  OtJE  Book. 

away."     Bitterly,  indeed,  Scott  learned  this  lesson,  and 
sadly,  yet  faithfully,  he  placed  it  on  record. 

Waveelet. 

How  strange  it  seems  that  Scott's  first  novel  should 
lie  in  an  unfinished  state  for  eight  years.  It  was  be- 
gun in  1805,  and  was  published  in  1813.  After  one- 
third  had  been  written  it  was  laid  aside  as  unworthy  of 
further  effort.  Later  on  the  author  accidentally  found  it 
and  became  so  interested  in  the  subject  that  he  wrote  the 
remainder  in  three  weeks.  This  is  wonderful  execution, 
but  was  fully  equaled  in  his  second  novel  —  Guy  Man- 
nering  —  which  some  consider  his  best.  This  was  begun 
and  finished  within  the  space  of  six  weeks.  William 
Erskine,  to  whose  criticism  Scott  submitted  the  early 
chapters  of  Waverley,  discouraged  further  progress. 
Strange  enough,  when  the  book  was  published,  many 
credited  its  authorship  to  this  very  man,  who  stood  high 
in  the  literary  world.  Monk  Lewis,  in  writing  to  Scott 
a  month  after  the  book  was  published,  said  :  "  I  am  now 
told  that  Waverley  is  by  William  Erskine.  If  this  be 
so,  tell  him  from  me  that  I  think  it  excellent  in  every  re- 
spect." Waverley's  appearance  marked  a  prolific  year. 
Scott  was  then  forty-three  and  in  the  fullness  of  liis 
powers.  Within  six  months  the  Lord  of  the  Isles  was 
pubhshed,  and  four  weeks  afterward  Guy  Mannering  ap- 
peared. I  believe  this  is  the  only  instance  on  record 
in  which  an  author  issues  three  first-class  works  within  so 
brief  a  period. 

Lucky  oe  Unlttcky. 
In  some  portions  of  the  world  May  is  considered  an 
unpropitious  month  for  wedlock.     Walter  Scott  was,  in 
most  points,  a  very  sensible  man,  and  yet  he  could  not 


Walter  Scott.  303 

resist  tliis  superstition  whicli  then,  indeed,  was  prevalent 
tlironghoiit  Scotland. 

While  the  union  of  liis  daughter  Sophia,  with  Lockhart, 
was  in  preparation,  he  had  important  engagements  in 
London,  but  he  left  them  unfinished,  at  a  time  when  a 
delay  of  a  week  would  have  been  of  great  value,  merely 
because  that  delay  would  have  thrown  the  marriage  into 
the  dreaded  month.  It  was  delayed  until  the  last  day, 
but  one,  in  April,  and  yet  the  result  was  almost  as  bad  as 
though  it  had  occurred  in  May.  The  Lockharts  liad  but 
one  child,  a  sickly  boy,  who  died  at  the  age  of  ten,  and 
Sophia  did  not  long  survive  him.  She  left  a  daughter 
who  married  John  Hope  who  took  the  name  of  Scott  and 
became  proprietor  of  Abbottsford. 

Going  back  to  Scott  himself  it  may  be  said  that  he  was 
married  on  Christmas  eve,  1797,  but  the  union  was  not 
felicitous  —  though  never  marred  by  open  rupture.  The 
biide  indeed  wa,s  much  inferior  to  the  average  of  young 
society  of  that  day,  and  this  defect  was  inherited  by  their 
four  children,  all  of  whom  were  far  below  mediocrity  in 
point  of  brain  activity.  The  oldest  son  was  of  noble 
figure,  which  is  all  that  can  be  said  of  him.  The  second 
son  was  glad  to  get  a  clerkship  under  the  government, 
which  was  his  highest  attainment.  The  oldest  daughter, 
Sophia,  was  the  brightest  of  the  children,  but  never  left 
any  thing  on  record  to  suggest  that  she  was  the  dauglitcr 
of  a  genius.  The  youngest  daughter,  Anne,  like  her 
brother  Charles,  died  unmarried.  She  was  a  frail  crea- 
ture, and  was  dreadfully  shattered  by  the  ruin  which  fell 
upon  her  father's  fortunes.  After  his  death  she  went  to 
London,  became  a  member  of  Lockhart's  family,  and 
died  there,  less  than  a  year  after  her  father.  A  pension 
from  the  king  gave  her  a  support,  and  thus  the  daughter  of 
the  greatest  author  of  the  age,  died  an  object  of  royal  charity. 


304  The  Family  KepeesentAtive. 

The  second  Walter  Scott  died  childless,  and  the  sole  rep- 
resentative of  the  author's  line  is  the  great  granddaughter 
Monica,  who  was  born  in  1852  and  who  still  lives  at 
Abbottsford.  Her  mother,  Mrs.  Hope  Scott  (Lockhart's 
daughter),  died  in  1858.  It  is  sad  to  see  how  Sir  Walter 
Scott  was  disappointed  in  all  his  children,  and  also  in  his 
grand  residence,  Abbottsford.  He  was  thirteen  years  per- 
fecting this  establishment,  and  failed  two  years  after  it 
might  have  been  called  a  finished  place.  Only  twice  was 
Abbottsford  opened  to  its  full  capacity  during  his  life. 
The  first  of  these  occasions  was  the  entertainment  given 
in  honor  of  his  son's  marriage,  the  second  was  the  funeral 
of  his  wife,  which  toot  place  soon  afterward.  After  these 
scenes  of  joy  and  sorrow  the  lordly  mansion  fell  into  de- 
cadence. 

Scott's  Sermons. 

The  highest  earnings  of  Scott's  pen  was  in  a  case 
which  illustrates  his  overflowing  kindness,  as  well  as  his 
vei-satility.  I  refer  to  his  "  sermons  "  M'hose  history  is  as 
follows :  He  had  in  his  service  as  amanuensis  a  young 
divinity  student  who  was  required  to  produce  two  ser- 
mons by  a  specified  time.  The  youth  was  so  appalled  by 
the  magnitude  of  this  task  that  he  could  not  pen  a  page. 
Scott  noticed  his  distress,  and  having  learned  its  cause 
said,  "Never  mind,  my  young  friend, leave  this  matter  to 
me,  and  I  will  write  for  you  a  couple  of  sermons  that 
shall  pass  muster."  The  next  morning  Scott  handed  hira 
two  discourses.  The  student's  mind  being  relieved,  was 
in  a  condition  to  write,  and  he  afterward  prepared  two 
sermons,  for  he  could  not  honestly  offer  Scott's  —  but  he 
kept  the  latter  as  a  memorial  of  his  employer's  kindness. 

Some  years  afterward  the  student,  or  rather  the  clergy- 
man, fell  into  financial  difficulties,  and  it  was  necessary 
that  he  should  raise  £180.     In  his  distress  he  remembered 


Walter  Scott.  S05 

the  sermons,  and  he  wrote  Sir  Walter  for  permission  to 
piibHsh  them.  The  request  was  granted,  and  the  sum  of 
£250  was  thus  obtained.  This  is  the  highest  price  on 
record  for  sermons,  and  it  is  also  the  largest  pay  earned 
by  literary  services  in  the  brief  space  of  one  day.  The 
discourses  were  very  inferior,  as  might  be  expected,  but 
they  awakened  curiosity,  for  the  public  desired  to  know 
wliat  kind  of  a  sermon  the  poet  and  novelist  could  write. 

Strange  book  History. 

Scott  suffered  painful  and  prolonged  illness  during  one 
of  his  most  important  years,  and  Lockhart  says  that  the 
effect  was  sucii  that  "  his  countenance  was  meagre  and 
haggard  —  his  clothes  hung  loosely  about  him  —  his  com- 
plexion was  the  deadliest  yellow  of  the  jaundice,  and  his 
hair  had,  during  a  few  weeks,  become  almost  white."  He 
also  says  that  being  at  this  time  at  Abbottsford,  Scott  had 
a  very  severe  attack,  and  adds :  "  I  never  can  forget  the 
groans  which  his  agony  extorted  from  him."  Lockhart 
considered  the  Bride  of  Lammermoor,  the  most  pow- 
erful and  thrilling  of  Scott's  tragic  romances,  and  this 
gives  special  interest  to  the  following  statement  by  Bal- 
lantyne  :  "  This  book  was  not  only  w^ritten,  but  published 
before  the  author  was  able  to  leave  his  bed,  and  he  assured 
me  that  when  put  in  his  hands  he  did  not  recall  a  single 
incident,  character  or  conversation  which  it  contained. 
The  original  tradition,  learned  in  childhood,  held  its  place 
in  his  memory,  but  nothing  of  his  own  work  was  there." 

It  is  not  surprising  that  Ballantyne  adds,  "  The  history 
of  the  human  mind  contains  nothing  more  wonderful 
than  this."  Scott  having  learned  that  the  book  was  pro- 
duced during  this  oblivious  condition,  read  it  with  much 
anxiety,  but  was  gratified  to  find  nothing  improper  in  its 

pages. 

39  ,.        . 


306  Our  Book. 

During  the  legal  proceedings  which  followed  Scott's 
failure,  he  wrote  Woodstock,  working  with  great  rapidity 
to  escape  the  distress  inseparable  from  his  condition. 
Such  was  the  public  interest  in  the  author  that  this  tale, 
which  was  merely  three  months'  labor,  and  which  is  an 
inferior  production,  brought  the  enormous  sum  of 
£8,000.  This  sum  at  present  valuation  would  be  equal 
to  $40,000,  but  as  money  was  then  of  much  greater  value 
than  at  present,  it  may  be  estimated  at  $60,000  at  least. 
These  figures  give  Woodstock  the  distinction  of  being 
the  most  remunerative  work  in  the  entire  range  of  fiction. 

Costly  Resentment. 

At  the  beginning  of  his  literary  career  Scott  deter- 
mined to  pay  no  attention  to  unjust  criticism,  and  well 
would  it  have  been  for  him  had  he  adhered  to  this  reso- 
lution. His  publisher  —  Constable  —  also  issued  the 
Edinburgh  Review,  which,  on  the  appearance  of  Mar- 
mion,  criticised  that  poem  with  unexpected  severity. 
Scott  naturally  felt  indignant  that  such  an  attack  should 
be  permitted  in  a  review  issued  by  his  own  publisher,  and, 
forgetting  his  early  resolution,  he  determined  on  a  rup- 
ture. He  withdrew  his  patronage  from  Constable  and 
started  the  Ballantynes  in  the  publishing  business,  with 
his  novels  as  a  specialty.  The  Ballantynes  had  long  been 
engaged  in  printing,  and  Scott  was  a  secret  partner.  They 
were  not,  however,  adapted  to  the  book  trade,  and  after 
suffering  heavy  loss,  Scott  was  glad  to  form  a  new 
arrangement  with  Constable.  This  continued  until  the 
general  collapse  in  business,  in  which  both  Constable  and 
Scott,  together  with  the  Ballantynes,  sank  to  bankruptcy. 

Debut  in  America. 
It  may  interest  some  of  my  readers  to  learn  the  earliest 


Walter  Scott.  307 

appearance  of  Scott's  name  in  America.  In  1807  the 
Lay  of  the  Last  Miustrel  was  published  in  New  York,  and 
as  this  is  Scott's  first  prominent  production  it  might  be 
considered  his  debut  among  American  readers.  Such,  at 
least,  was  my  idea  until  I  happened  to  find  a  copy  of 
Tales  of  Wonder,  ct)mpiled  by  M.  G.  Lewis.  It  is  a  col- 
lection of  weird  and  harrowing  ballads,  but  is  dignified 
b}'  Scott's  Glenfinlas  and  several  other  early  efforts.  The 
compiler  in  introducing  the  author  says  in  a  brief  prefa- 
tory note :  "  By  Walter  Scott.  For  more  of  this  gentle- 
man's ballads,  both  original  and  translated,  see  the  poems 
following  it."  As  the  Tales  of  Wonder  were  published 
by  Samuel  Campbell,  No.  12i  Pearl  street,  in  1801,  this 
must  be  considered  Scott's  first  appearance  in  America. 
But  who  would  have  imagined  from  so  humble  an  an- 
nouncement that  he  would  so  soon  achieve  fame  as  the 
great  minstrel  of  the  north  ?  Scott,  indeed,  was  then 
merely  an  Edinburgh  lawyer,  who  was  amusing  himself 
by  literature,  little  dreaming  of  the  brilliant  future  which 
awaited  him. 

His   Journal. 

Scott  kept  during  the  darkest  years  of  his  life  a  journal. 
This  was  a  solace  amid  the  frowns  of  ill-fortune  and  a 
companion  in  that  solitude  which  followed  the  death  of  his 
wife.  There  are  few  instances  on  record  in  which  a  great 
mind  unveils  itself  eo  thoroughly  as  he  has  done  in  these 
self-comnmnings.  They  open  to  us  the  dark  and  desolate 
experiences  of  one  blasted  in  ambition  and  left  only  to 
labor  in  the  almost  hopeless  task  of  paying  debts  incurred 
by  a  mismanaging  partner. 

Pride  was  Scott's  greatest  weakness  and  it  has  always 
been  the  sin  of  genius.  This  led  him,  when  forming  his 
partnership  with  Ballantyne,  to  require  the  closest  secrecy, 
for  had  it  been  known  it  would  have  impaired  his  social 


30S  OuK  Book. 

rank.  According  to  the  false  opinion  which  then  pre- 
vailed a  "gentleman"  could  not  be  connected  with  any 
craft,  and  for  that  error  Scott  atoned  by  the  loss  of  all  his 
wealth. 

If  pride,  however,  were  his  sin,  honesty  was  his  great 
virtue.  Scott's  failure  developed  an  element  in  his  char- 
acter which  otherwise  never  would  have  been  known. 
He  would  pay  his  debts,  including  all  that  Ballantyne's 
blunders  had  heaped  upon  him.  He  saw  the  glory  of 
Abbottsford  pass  away,  and  it  left  him  a  solitary  and 
shattered  widower;  but  here  is  displayed  true  nobility — 
he  would  pay  his  debts.  His  honesty  was  really  grander 
than  his  genius. 

AUTHOKS    AND    AuNTS. 

An  aunt  often  fills  a  sphere  equal  in  importance  to  that 
of  the  mother,  and  occasionally  even  greater,  and  hence 
this  influence  has  often  been  acknowledged  by  men  of 
genius.  Wilberforce's  mother  was  a  fashionable  society 
woman,  who  would  have  modelled  her  son  in  the  same  pat- 
tern, but  fortunately  the  influence  of  his  aunt  saved  him 
from  the  full  extent  of  maternal  perversion.  Southey 
was  reared  under  the  care  of  his  eccentric  aunt  Tyler. 
Gibbon,  who  lost  his  mother  early,  says :  "  The  maternal 
office  was  supplied  by  my  aunt,  Mrs.  Catharine  Porter, 
at  whose  name  I  feel  a  tear  of  affection  trickhng  down 
my  cheek.  My  weakness  excited  her  pity ;  her  attach- 
ment was  strengthened  by  labor  and  success,  and  if  there 
be  any  who  rejoice  that  I  lived,  to  that  dear  and  excellent 
woman  they  must  hold  themselves  indebted.  Many  anx- 
ious and  solitary  days  did  she  consume  in  patient  trial 
of  every  mode  of  relief  and  amusement.  Many  wakeful 
nights  did  she  sit  by  my  bed  expecting  each  moment  to 
be  my  last.     She  was  the  mother  of  my  mind  as  well  as 


Authors  and  Aunts.  309 

ray  liealth,  and  it  was  her  delight  and  reward  to  observe 
the  first  shoots  of  my  early  ideas.  To  her  kind  lessons  I 
ascribe  my  early  and  invincible  love  of  reading,  which  I 
would  not  exchange  for  the  wealth  of  the  Indies." 

More  than  a  century  and  a  half  ago  a  recluse  London 
student  was  wont  to  visit  a  beloved  aunt  who  lived  at  Stoke 
Pogis  and  while  there  passed  many  pensive  hours  in  the 
churchyard.  Gray's  elegy  would  never  have  been  written 
had  it  not  been  for  these  visits  and  now  both  he  and  his 
aunt  Antrobus  and  also  his  mother  rest  in  the  very  spot 
which  he  rendered  one  of  the  shrines  of  genius. 

Scott  says  of  his  kind  and  affectionate  aunt  Janet  Scott, 
that  when  he  was  but  a  small  child  she  read  to  him  the 
little  collection  of  books  which  the  family  possessed,  and 
he  adds,  "  her  memory  will  be  ever  dear  to  me." 

It  may  be  mentioned  that  both  Gibbon  and  Scott  were 
taken  by  their  aunts  to  Bath,  in  order  to  try  the  waters. 
Scott,  while  there,  first  attended  the  theatre,  and  saw  As 
You  Like  It.  He  was  then  only  five,  but  he  remembered 
it  vividly.  Indeed,  he  says  in  his  autobiography,  "  the 
witchery  of  the  whole  scene  is  alive  in  my  mind  at  this 
moment.  I  remember  being  so  distressed  by  the  quarrel 
between  Orlando  and  his  brother  in  the  first  act,  that  I 
screamed  out,  '  A'nt  they  brothers  ? '  "  Scott  adds  that 
after  he  left  his  aunt  and  went  to  live  in  the  paternal 
home,  he  found  that  family  quarrels  were  a  very  natural 
thing. 

Charles  Lamb  writes  to  Coleridge  thus :  "  This  after- 
noon I  attended  the  funeral  of  my  poor  old  aunt.  Slic 
was  to  me  the  cherisher  of  my  infancy  and  the  kindest 
creature  to  me  when  I  was  at  school,  who  used  to  toddle 
there  to  bring  me  good  things;  I  was  always  her  favorite." 

"  No  after  friendship  e'er  c;in  raise, 
The  endearments  of  our  early  days; 
Nor  e'er  the  licart  sucli  fondness  prove. 
As  when  it  first  bejjan  to  love." 


310  Othek  Eakly  Memories. 

The  early  memories  of  men  of  genius  are  alwaj'^s  of 
interest.  What  pictures  of  home  life,  dear  though  hum- 
ble are  given  by  Carlyle,  Burns  and  Hugh  Miller.  Irving 
too  describes  the  scenes  of  his  youth  with  much  enthusi- 
asm, and  Woodworth  exclaims: 

How  dear  to  this  heart  are  the  scenes  of  my  cliildhood, 
When  fond  recollection  presents  them  to  view; 

The  orchard,  the  meadow,  the  deep  tangled  wildwood, 
And  every  loved  spot  which  my  infancy  knew. 

A  remarkable  instance  is  found  in  the  following  state- 
ment, written  hy  Byron  only  two  years  before  his  death 
in  reference  to  meeting,  at  Pisa,  Lord  Clare,  a  former 
schoolmate : 

"  Our  meeting  annihilated  for  a  moment  all  the  years  between 
the  present  and  the  days  of  Harrow.  We  were  but  five  minutes 
together,  and  that  on  the  public  road,  but  I  hardly  recollect  an 
hour  of  my  existence  that  could  be  weighed  against  them." 

It  is  evident  that  the  true  language  of  the  poet's  heart 
was,  "  Would  I  could  become  a  child  again." 

A  still  more  impressive  instance  of  Byron's  love  of  the 
scenes  of  his  boyhood,  may  be  given  in  connection  with 
the  death  of  his  illegitimate  daughter,  Allegra,  who  had 
acquired  great  power  over  the  heart  of  her  profligate 
father.  She  died  in  Italy  after  a  brief  illness,  and  Byron 
determined  to  send  the  remains  to  England  for  interment. 
He  wrote  thus  to  his  publisher,  under  date  of  Pisa,  April 
22,  1822  :  "  It  is  a  heavy  blow,  but  must  be  borne  with 
time.  The  body  is  embarked,  and  I  wish  it  buried  at 
Harrow.  There  is  a  spot  in  the  churchyard  on  the  brow 
of  the  hill,  looking  toward  Windsor,  under  a  large  tree 
where  I  used  to  sit  for  hours  and  hours  when  a  boy  — 
but  as  I  wish  to  erect  a  tablet  to  her  memory,  the  body 
had  better  be  deposited  in  the  church.  Near  the  door 
there  is  a  monument  whose  inscription  I  remember  after 
a  lapse  of  seventeen  years.  I  wish  Allegra  to  be  buried 
as  near  as  is  convenient,  and  on  the  side  of  the  wall  a 
marble  tablet  with  these  words : 


Journalism.  311 

♦In  memory  of 

Allegra, 

Daughter  of  G.  G.  Lord  Byron, 

Who  died  April  20,  1822, 

Aged  five  years  and  three  months. 

I  shall  go  to  her,  but  she  shall  not  return 

to  me.     2nd  Samuel  X,  12-23.'  " 

The  death  of  this  little  child  led  its  father  to  look  into 
the  Bible  for  ati  epitaph,  and  the  latter,  though  incorrect 
ill  one  point,  is  almost  the  only  scriptural  quotation  to  be 
found  in  his  writings.  It  shows  that  he  had  a  desire  to 
share  that  happiness  which  became  her  eternal  portion, 
and  had  he  yielded  to  such  influences  he  might  even  then 
have  escaped  from  the  abominations  into  which  he  had 
plunged,  but  it  is  mentioned  here  to  show  his  love  of 
early  association.  Byron's  memory  of  Harrow  was  in- 
tensely powerful,  and  sometimes  indeed  overcoming. 


JOURNALISM. 

Old  Papers. 
How  strange  it  is  that  of  the  first  newspaper  printed  in 
America  there  should  be  only  one  copy  in  existence  and 
it  is  not  probable  that  more  than  one  was  printed.  The 
paper  referred  to  has  no  title  and  the  solitary  copy  is  in 
the  State  Paper  Office  in  London  where  it  was  seen  and 
examined  by  librarian  Fell  of  the  Massachusetts  Histori- 
cal Society.  Possibly  it  may  be  a  revised  proof  sub- 
mitted to  the  authorities  who  forbade  any  such  publica- 
tion without  license,  wdiich  discouraged  the  printer,  and 
he  suppressed  it.  Such,  at  least,  is  my  theory.  It  was 
pi'inted  by  Richard  Pierce,  for  Benjamin  Harris,  who  had 
a  printing-house  and  book  store  in  Boston.  As  the  bi- 
centennial of  this  effort  is  ahnost  at  hand  would  it  not  be 
well  to  have  this  pioneer  sheet  reproduced  in  order  to  show 


312  OuE  Book. 

the  public  the  acorn  from  which  has  grown  so  immense  an 
oak.     It  is  a  small  quarto  and  is  dated  September  25, 1690. 

The  Next. 

On  the  24th  April,  1704,  the  Boston  News  Letter 
appeared,  and  an  imperfect  file  is  preserved  in  the  Massa- 
chusetts Historical  Library.  The  New  York  Historical 
Society  also  has  a  few  copies,  and  it  is  said  that  there  is  a 
third  copy,  but,  if  so,  this  is  the  limit  of  its  existence.  It 
was  published  by  John  Campbell,  the  postmaster  of  Boston, 
and  was  the  first  newspaper  that  Franklin  read  —  being 
in  existence  during  his  earliest  years.  The  paper  which 
James  Franklin  started,  in  1723,  was  a  rival  to  the  News 
Letter,  which  was  continued  long  after  the  death  of  its 
founder.  The  first  issue  of  the  News  Letter  gave  Lon- 
don news  four  months  and  twenty  days  old.  It  announces 
trouble  in  Ireland  and  there  has  been  trouble  there  ever 
since.  "  A  man  had  been  killed  for  appearing  in  court 
against  Teddy  O'Quin,"  and  here  we  see  the  same  terror- 
ism which  has  become  so  fearful  in  modern  days.  The 
next  page  states  that  the  Queen  (Anne)  opened  Parlia- 
ment with  much  solemnity  and  made  the  usual  address. 

There  is  no  division  of  local  matter  in  the  News  Let- 
ter, and  the  foreign  items  are  followed  by  the  announce- 
ment that  "  Mr.  Nathaniel  Oliver,  a  principal  merchant 
of  this  place,  died  April  15,  and  was  decently  inter'd 
April  18,  States  53.  The  20  the  Re'd  Mr.  Pemberton 
Preach'd  an  Excellent  Sermon  on  1  Thess.  4.,  ii.  And  do 
your  own  business.  Exhorting  all  Ranks  and  Degrees  of 
Persons  to  do  their  own  work  in  order  to  a  Refokmation 
which  His  Excellency  has  ordered  to  be  Printed."  "  Capt. 
Davison  of  the  Eagle  Galley  sailes  for  London  in  a 
month  ;  if  the  Virginia  Fleet  stays  so  long  he  intends 
to  keep  them  Company  Home  if  not  to  run  for  it,  being 
Built  for  that  service." 


Journalism.  313 

Here  is  a  postal  advertisement  which  may  interest  some 
of  my  readers : 

TTie  Western  Post  between  Boston  and  New  York  sets  out  once  a 
Fortnight  the  Three  Winter  Months  d  to  go  Alternately  from  Boston 
to  Say  brook  and  Hiirtford  to  Exchange  the  Mayle  of  Letters  with  the 
New  York  liyder  on  Saturday  Night  the  Wth  And  he  sets  at  Boston 
on  Monday  Night  the  20th  to  meet  the  New  York  liyder  at  Hartford 
0)i  Saturday  Night  the  25th  to  Exchange  Mayles.  All  persons  that 
sends  Letters  from  Boston  to  Connecticut  are  hereby  Notified  first 
to  pay  Poi'tage  on  the  same. 

Campbell  deserves  credit  for  his  enterprise  in  starting  a 
paper,  which  he  conducted  for  eighteen  years,  when  he 
sold  out,  but  the  paper  lived  under  varied  management 
until  it  sank  amid  the  revolutionary  troubles,  after  an  ex- 
istence of  seventy-two  years. 

Othek  Journals. 
The  Historical  Society  of  New  York  contains  files  of 
all  the  old  papers  issued  in  that  city,  the  first  being  the 
New  York  Gazette,  wliich  Bradford  began  in  1725, 
twenty-one  years  after  the  first  issue  of  the  Boston  News 
Letter.  In  1T54,  just  a  half  century  after  the  first  issue 
of  Campbell's  News  Letter,  there  were  four  papers  pub- 
lished in  Boston,  two  in  Pliiladelphia,  two  in  New  York, 
and  one  in  Williamsburgh,  Va.  In  1825  a  book  was 
])ublished  called  a  Picture  of  New  York,  in  which  the 
following  statement  was  made  :  "  About  one  hundred 
years  have  elapsed  since  a  regular  weekly  newspaper  was 
established  called  the  Weekly  Gazette.  At  present  the 
aggregate  circulation  of  daily  papers  published  here  is 
15,000."  This  was  mentioned  as  a  proof  of  progress, 
but  at  the  present  day  the  aggregate  circulation  of  the 
New  York  dailies  is  not  much  less  than  a  million. 

New  York  Printers. 
The  first  printer  New  York  ever  contained  was  William 
Bradford,  an  Englishman,  who  landed  first  in  Philadel- 
40 


314  Our  Book. 

phia,  but  meeting  ill  success  went  to  New  York.  Hero 
he  was  encouraged  by  the  government  patronage,  and  for 
more  than  a  half  century  Bradford's  press  was  thus  dis- 
tinguished. II is  first  issues  are  now  in  great  demand 
among  bibliomaniacs,  and  at  the  late  Brinsley  sale  one 
volume  brought  $1,<100.  It  is  a  copy  of  the  colonial  laws 
and  was  printed  in  1693.  New  York  was  then,  as  it  is 
now,  the  most  important  of  American  seaports,  and  yet 
its  population  could  not  have  been  more  than  five  thou- 
pand — of  whom  three-quarters  were  Dutch.  The  book 
above  referred  to  is  a  folio  ten  inches  long  and  six  wide 
and  weighs  not  more  than  three-quarters  of  a  pound,  and 
yet  it  brought  a  greater  price  than  was  ever  previously 
paid  for  an  American  book.  It  was  purchased  for  the 
State  library,  at  Albany,  and  as  it  has  been  asked  why 
our  government  should  spend  its  money  for  mere  curios- 
ities the  reply  is  as  follows :  It  is  for  the  law  department 
of  the  library,  which  should  possess  a  copy  of  the  first 
legislative  proceedings  of  the  colony.  Its  value  as  a  lit- 
erary curiosity  is  due  to  the  fact  that  it  is  the  first  book 
ever  printed  in  New  Y'ork,  and  there  are  only  three  other 
copies  in  existence. 

As  the  tramp  nuisance  has  of  late  years  called  forth 
continued  discussion,  until  at  last  it  has  been  met  by  leg- 
islative action,  I  may  remark  that  it  is  by  no  means  a 
new  question.  I  find  it,  indeed,  in  this  very  volume  of 
the  first  colonial  laws,  under  the  title  of  "  An  act  for  the 
prevention  of  vagabonds  and  idle  persons  from  other 
parts."  This  nuisance  was,  therefore,  felt  as  early  as 
1093,  and  the  prohibitory  clause  is  as  follows :  "  Be  it 
enacted,  that  all  persons  that  shall  come  to  inhabit  within 
this  province,  and  hath  not  a  visible  estate  or  manuel 
occupation,  shall  give  sufficient  surety  that  he  shall  not 
be  a  burden  or  charge  to  the  respective  places  he  shall 


JOUKNALISM.  315 

come  to  inhabit."  Vagabonds  and  beggars  are  by  the 
same  statute  turned  over  to  the  constable,  and  the  statute 
shows  that  the  authorities  even  then  had  a  correct  idea  of 
the  proper  way  to  deal  with  such  a  class. 

CoNCERNiNa  JBradford. 
But  little  is  known,  personally,    concerning  William 
Bradford,  except  that  he  was  a  practical  printer  and  lived 
to  an  unusual  age.     His  principal  distinction  arises  from 
the  fact  that  he  was  the  first  man  that  started  the  craft  in 
the  city  of  JSTew  York.     Another  point  is  that  he  refused 
Franklin  employment,  and  thus  led  him  to  seek  it  in 
Philadelphia.     Had  Franklin  been  successful  in  his  appli- 
cation New  York  would  have  had  the  special  benefit  of 
his  genius,  and  been  honored  by  his  name.     The  youno- 
adventurer  had  left  Boston  in  order  to  seek  his  fortune^ 
and  having  reached  New  York,  applied  to  Bradford.  The 
latter  had  no  need  of  any  assistance  and  hence  Franklin 
went  to  Philadelphia,  inaking  most  of  the  journey  on 
foot.     Bradford  had  a  son  in  that  city  who  was  also  a 
printer,  and  knowing  that  Franklin  had  gone  tliither,  he 
was  anxious  to  learn  what  effect  the  arrival  of  another 
member  of  the  craft  would  have  upon  it.     Hence  he  fol- 
lowed Franklin,  who  was  soon  surprised  to  find  himself 
watched  by  the  man  who  so  recently  had  refused  him 
employment.     It  is  evident  that  Bradford  discerned  ele- 
ments of  power  in  the  young  printer. 

Early  Progress. 
Franklin  obtained  employment  from  Keimer,  who  was 
the  only  other  printer  in  Philadelphia,  and  his  first  job 
was  an  elegy  on  Aquila  Rose.  Some  of  our  readers  may 
not  only  be  interested  to  see  Franklin's  first  work,  but  may 
be  gratified  by   a   rare   bit   of  antique  poetry.     Hence 


316  Our  Book. 

I  offer  an  extract  which  gives  one  a  view  of  an  ancient 

Philadelphia  funeral  procession  ;  italics  copied  : 

What  Mournful  Accents  thus  accost  my  ear, 
What  doleful  echoes  hourly  thus  appear  ? 
What  sighs  from  melting  Hearts  proclaim  aloud 
The  Solemn  mournings  of  this  numerous  Crowd? 
****** 

A  gen'rous  Mind  tow'rds  all  his  Friends  he  bore, 

Scarce  one  he  lost,  but  daily  numbered  more. 

Courteous  and  humble,  pleasant,  just  and  wise; 

No  Affectation  vain  did  in  him  rise. 

Wliile  on  his  Death  Bed  oft.  Dear  Lord  he  cry'd, 

He  sang  and  sweetly  like  a  lamb  he  dy'd. 

His  Corpse  attended  was  by  Friends  so  soon 

From  seven  at  Morn  till  one  o'clock  at  Noon 

By  Master  Printers  carried  toward  his  Grave. 

Our  City  Printer  such  an  Iionor  gave. 

A  worthy  Merchant  did  the  Widow  lead. 

And  then  both  mounted  on  a  stately  steed. 

Next  Preachers,  Common  Council,  Aldermen. 

Our  aged  Post  Master  here  now  appears, 

Who  had  not  walked  so  far  in  twice  Twelve  years. 

With  Mercliants,  Shop-Keepers,  the  Young  and  old; 

A  numerous  Throng,  not  very  Easy  told. 

And  what  still  adds  a  further  Lustre  to  't, 

Some  rode  well  mounted,  others  walked  afoot 

Where  to  the  crowded  meeting  he  was  bore; 

I  wept  so  long  till  I  could  weep  no  more. 

We  learn  from  these  verses  that  in  Philadelphia,  at  the 
time  referred  to,  funeral  processions  were  either  eques- 
trian or  pedestrian,  and  that  even  the  widow  followed  her 
husband  to  the  grave  on  a  pillion.  Bradford's  influence 
was  sufficient  to  procure  the  appointment  of  his  son  to 
the  office  of  postmaster  in  Philadelphia,  and  the  family 
thus  reached  distinction.  This  is  referred  to  by  Keiraer 
(Franklin's  acquaintance),  who,  when  issuing  the  Barba- 
does  Gazette,  thus  uttered  his  piteous  plaint : 

What  a  pity  it  is  that  some  modem  bravadoes, 
Who  dub  themselves  gentlemen  here  in  Barbadoes, 
Should  time  after  time  run  in  debt  to  their  printer, 
And  care  not  to  pay  him  in  summer  or  winter  ? 
In  Penn's  wooden  country  type  feels  no  disaster; 
Their  Printer  is  rich  and  is  made  their  Post  Master. 
His  father  a  printer,  is  paid  for  his  work. 
And  wallows  in  plenty,  just  now  in  New  York. 


JOUKNALISM.  3lY 

To  return  to  Franklin.  Bradford's  fears  were  event- 
ually fulfilled.  Franklin's  skill,  industry  and  good  sense 
gradually  gave  liiin  precedence,  and  Bradford  lived  to  see 
the  applicant  for  employment  become  the  most  important 
printer  in  America.  The  following  is  Bradford's  epitaph, 
which  may  be  found  in  Trinity  church^^ard  : 

Here  lietli  the  body  of  Mr.  William  Bradford,  printer,  who  de- 
parted this  life  May  23,  17o2,  aged  92  years.  He  was  born  in 
Leicestershire,  Old  England,  in  IGUO,  and  came  over  to  America 
in  1680  before  Philadelphia  was  laid  out.  He  was  printer  to  this 
government  for  upward  of  50  years,  and  being  quite  worn  out 
with  old  age  and  labor,  he  left  this  mortal  state  in  the  lively  hope 
of  a  blessed  immortality. 

Reader,  reflect  how  soon  you'll  leave  the  stage; 
You'll  find  few  live  to  such  an  age. 
Life's  full  of  pain.     Lo,  here's  a  place  of  rest — 
Prepare  to  meet  your  God  and  you  are  blest. 

From  the  above  record  it  is  evident  that  our  first 
American  printer  was,  during  his  early  days,  contempo- 
rary with  Bunyan,  Milton,  Dryden,  Pope  and  Addison. 
What  a  rare  galaxy  of  talent ! 

The  first  newspaper  in  New  York. 

When  Franklin  sought  employment  of  Bradford,  the 
latter  was  only  a  job  printer,  but  two  years  afterward  he 
began  the  New  York  Gazette,  which  was  the  first  news- 
paper issued  in  that  city.  He  was  then  sixty-five.  Rather 
old  for  a  new  effort,  but  he  conducted  it  for  a  long  time, 
and  indeed,  it  was  twenty- seven  years  old  at  the  time 
of  his  death. 

Hugh  Gaine  was  the  next  printer  of  any  importance, 
for  he  flourished  both  before  and  after  the  Revolution, 
but  he  was  not  a  partisan,  while  John  Holt  was  pro- 
nounced and  decisive  in  his  patriotic  affinities.  Holt  edited 
the  first  Whig  paper  ever  published  in  New  York.  It 
was  called  the  New  York  Journal  and  General  Adver. 
tiser,  and  was  devoted  to  the  cause  of  Hberty.     When  the 


318  Our  Book. 

British  took  possession  of  the  city,  he  removed  his  press 
to  Kingston,  and  when  that  place  was  burned  he  removed 
to  Ponghkeepsie  and  renewed  its  pubhcation.  After  the 
war  closed  he  returned  to  JSTew  York,  and  called  his  paper 
'the  Independent  Gazette,  or  the  New  York  Journal 
Revived.  Fifteen  years  later  he  died,  and  his  paper  then 
became  Greenleaf's  Journal.  It  soon  fell  into  the 
hands  of  James  Cheetham,  an  Englishman  who  achieved 
a  temporary  notoriety.  Holt  died  in  17SS,  and  was  buried 
in  St.  Paul's.  His  tombstone  is  a  prominent  feature  in 
that  storied  cemetery,  and  the  inscription  says  that  it  was 
ei'ected  by  his  widow,  whose  affection  is  displayed  in  the 
eulogistic  epitaph. 

To  return  to  Cheetham,  it  may  be  said  that  he  changed 
Greenleaf's  Journal  to  the  American  Citizen,  which  was 
an  abusive  partisan  sheet,  but  he  died  in  1810,  and  is  now 
forgotten. 

James  Rivington  was  a  noted  printer  during  the  revo- 
lutionary troubles.  He  wa-s  a  native  of  London,  and  was 
in  his  fiftieth  year  when  he  started  a  paper  in  Now  York 
called  the  New  York  Gazetter,  or  the  Connecticut,  New 
Jersey,  Hudson  River  and  Quebec  Weekly  Advertiser. 
A  more  extended  title  to  any  journal  cannot  be  found  on 
the  record  of  the  craft.  Rivington  was  at  first  a  tory,  but 
perceiving  that  the  British  cause  was  sinking,  he  became 
a  spy  for  Washington.  Hence,  when  the  city  was  evacu- 
ated, he  remained  and  continued  his  business,  but  his 
patriotism  was  only  affected,  for  while  Washington  (then 
President)  was  suffering  such  obloquy,  he  added  to  it  by 
republishing  in  book  form  the  malicious  fraud,  referred 
to  in  the  appendix.     I  suspect  he  was  its  author. 

Satanic  Peess. 
This  title  was  assumed  in  the  earlier  issues  of  the  New 
Yoik  Herald,    whose  caustic  editor  made  it  a  matter  of 


JoDKNALISM.  319 

boast.  This,  however,  was  not  its  origin,  for  I  find  that 
James  Franklin's  New  England  Courant  (first  issued  ia 
Boston  in  1721)  was  the  satauic  press  of  its  day,  and  its 
satires  and  pasquinades  were  felt  as  keenly  as  those  of  the 
senior  Bennett.  James  Franklin,  however,  was  honored 
by  a  month's  imprisonment.  He  was  also  threatened 
with  suppression,  to  avoid  which  lie  put  tlie  concern  in  the 
hands  of  his  younger  brother,  Benjamin.  The  latter  was 
in  this  manner  a  publisher  before  he  reached  eighteen, 
but  he  had  given  early  proof  of  his  business  ability.  The 
New  England  Courant  was  full  of  fight,  and  assailed 
Harvard  College  in  an  unsparing  manner,  while  at  the 
same  time  the  clergy  and  other  leading  men  were  severely 
handled.  These  attacks  were  answered  in  the  rival  paper 
(the  News-Letter),  but  Franklin  always  had  the  best  of 
the  controversy.  He  was  keen  and  relentless,  and  there- 
fore awoke  bitter  denunciation,  but  he  had  the  faculty  of 
turning  it  to  good  account,  and  in  this  point  Bennett  also 
excelled.  It  was  said  by  its  enemies  that  the  Courant 
was  edited  by  the  "Hell-fire  Club,"  to  which  Franklin 
replies  thus : 

I  would  advise  the  enemies  of  the  Courant  not  to  publish  any- 
thing more  against  it,  unless  they  wish  to  have  it  continued. 
Above  forty  persons  have  subscribed  for  the  Courant  since  the 
first  of  January,  and  by  one  advertisement  more  the  anti-Courant- 
ers  will  be  in  danger  of  adding  forty  more. 

Hit  at  Harvard. 

Here  is  another  of  James  Franklin's  retorts,  the  itahcs 
being  copied : 

The  hearty  curses  on  the  Courant  and  its  publishers  are  all  to 
no  purpose,  for,  as  a  Connecticut  man  said  of  his  onions,  the  more 
they  are  cursed  the  more  they  grow.  Notwithstanding  this  a  scrib- 
bling young  collegian,  who  has  just  learning  enough  to  make  a 
fool  of  himself,  has  taken  it  into  his  head  to  put  a  stop  to  this  wick- 
edness (as  he  calls  it)  by  a  letter  in  his  last  week's  paper.  Poor  boy! 

The  above  really  seems  like  an  extract  from  some  of 


S20  OuK  Book. 

Bennett's  sharpest  paragraphs,  and  one  can  hardly  believe 
that  it  was  written  in  Boston  more  than  a  century  and  a 
half  ago.  This  "  collegian  "  was  Mather  Byles,  afterward 
a  prominent  preacher,  and  his  reply  brought  a  fresh  dis- 
play of  Franklin's  wit  in  several  scraps  of  jargon,  written, 
as  he  said,  "  in  the  Mungundean  language  for  the  benefit 
of  Harfet  Coleg  (Harvard  College)  who  strive  in  vain  or 
are  too  lazy  to  study  the  other  learned  tonguesP  The 
italics  are  copied,  and  some  other  interesting  extracts 
might  be  given  if  space  permitted,  but  I  will  merely  add 
that  Franklin's  enemies  succeeded  (as  has  been  previously 
mentioned)  in  getting  him  jailed  for  four  weeks.  The 
Courant  was  issued  for  a  while  by  Benjamin  Franklin, 
but  after  his  departure  for  Philadelphia  its  proprietor 
removed  it  to  Newport,  where  there  was  less  tyranny. 
He  died  soon  afterward,  and  his  name  is  now  only  recalled 
by  this  reference  to  the  founder  of  the  satanic  press. 

Feanklest  Memories. 
The  present  Franklinian  revival  reminds  one  that  Ben- 
jamin Franklin  was  the  first  American  journalist  to  assume 
a  pen  name.  He  w^as  then  only  an  apprentice  of  sixteen 
years,  and  while  he  wished  to  publish  his  ideas  he  de- 
termined to  conceal  his  name  both  from  his  brother  and 
from  the  j3ublic.  He  mentions  in  his  autobiography  that 
he  was  ambitious  to  appear  in  print,  but  fearing  that 
his  brother  would  refuse  his  offering  he  disguised  his 
handwriting  and  thrust  the  piece  under  the  door.  It  was 
accepted  and  published,  and  its  author  was  gratified  by 
hearing  it  highly  approved  h^  good  judges.  It  was  ascribed 
to  several  clever  writers,  but  no  one  imagined  it  could  be 
the  work  of  the  apprentice.  This  encouraged  the  latter, 
who  continued  his  offerings,  which  were  very  acceptable, 
and  the  elder  brother  was  astonished  when  the  secret  was 


JotJRNALISM.  321 

revealed.     By  reference  to  the  New  England  Conrant  it 

lias  been  discovered  that  these  articles  were  signed  Silence 

Dogood,  and  this  name  was  evidently  prompted  by  Cotton 

Mather's    volume,   entitled  Essays   to   Do-Good.     Sixty 

years   afterward  Franklin  wrote  thus  to  Dr.  Mather  of 

-Boston : 

When  I  was  a  boy,  I  met  with  a  book  entitled  Essays  to  Do- 
Good,  which  was  written  by  your  fallier.  It  gave  me  such  a  turn 
of  thinking  as  to  have  an  inliuence  on  my  conduct  for  life. 

The  above  extract  shows  the  connection  between  the 
Silence  Dogood  of  the  New  England  Courant  and  the 
Essays  to  Do-Good,  by  Cotton  Mather. 

Another  point  of  Identity. 
Another  proof  that  the  apprentice  was  the  author  of 
the  Silence  Dogood  papers  is  found  in  the  identity  of 
opinions  on  temperance.  Franklin  says  in  his  autobiog- 
raphy that,  while  working  at  his  trade  in  London,  he 
astonished  the  printers  by  the  amount  of  hard  labor  that 
could  be  done  by  a  teetotaler.  While  they  drank  great 
quantities  of  ale,  he  only  used  water,  and  thus  saved  four 
shillings  a  week,  which  they  spent  for  drink,  and  he  adds : 
"  Thus  do  those  poor  devils  continue  all  their  lives  in  a 
state  of  voluntary  wretchedness  and  poverty."  Now, 
turning  to  the  very  last  of  the  Silence  Dogood  papers, 
I  find  a  brief  temperance  lecture,  in  which  the  writer 
says : 

As  the  effects  of  liquor  are  various,  so  are  the  characters  given 
to  its  devourers.  It  argues  some  shame  in  the  drunkards  them- 
selves that  tliey  have  invented  numberless  words  and  phrases  to 
cover  their  fwlly.  They  are  seldom  drunk,  but  are  often  boozy, 
typsy,  mellow,  fuddled,  and  in  fact,  every  day  produces  some 
new  phrase  which  is  added  to  the  vocabulary  of  the  tipplers. 

Five  years   after   the   pubhcation   of   the   above   the 
"  water  American  "  (as  he  was  called)  astonished  the  Lon- 
don printers  by  the  vigor  of  an  habitual  abstinent. 
41 


322  Gradual  PkogeesS. 

Now  that  typography  has  reached  sucli  perfection  it  is 
interestino;  to  notice  its  gradual  advance.  It  was  slow  to 
obtain  a  foothold,  but  when  that  was  accomplished  the 
progress  was  so  rapid  that  all  other  nations  have  been 
distanced. 

Thomas  Greenleaf,  a  leading  New  York  printer,  pub- 
lished the  first  collection  of  State  laws  in  January,  1792. 
lie  expresses  his  grateful  thanks  for  a  generous  list  of  up- 
wards of  fourteen  hundred  subscribers,  obtained  throughout 
the  State,  and  he  adds  as  follows,  the  italics  being  co])ied  : 

The  types  and  paper  were  manufactured  in  this  state  and  the 
editor,  anxious  to  give  good  satisfaction,  engaged  an  ingenious 
typefounder  from  Holland  to  cast  a  new  font.  The  types  are  not 
so  perfectly  regular  as  those  from  the  London  foundries,  but  no 
cash  went  to  London  for  them  and  our  infant  manufactures  ought 
to  be  encouraged. 

Types  had  previously  been  made  in  Philadelphia,  but 

Greenleaf  felt  commendable  pride  in  being  the  first  to 

manufacture  them  in  New  Tork. 

Franklin's  Difficulties.  * 

We  are  a  nation  of  newspapers,  and  how  they  all  live 
is  a  wonder.  Printers  are  generally  in  trouble,  and  there 
are  but  few  offices  that  have  smooth  sailing.  This  is 
nothing  new,  and  Franklin  gives  us  an  impressive  view 
of  the  difficulties  which  beset  the  craft  in  its  early  days. 
He  also  mentions  the  very  encouraging  patronage  of  a 
friend  who  became  a  customer  to  the  amount  oijvoe  shil- 
lings, and  small  as  this  sum  may  appear,  most  of  our 
great  editors  have  seen  the  time  when  it  was  not  to  be 
despised.  The  printing  business  up  to  Franklin's  time, 
had  never  been  remunerative.  Even  Bradford  hardly 
made  it  profitable,  and  Franklin  was  the  first  in  this 
country  that  really  succeeded.  Franklin,  however,  would 
have  done  well  at  any  business,  and  it  may  be  added  that 
only  such  will  succeed  at  printing,  since  it  requires  an 


JoUKNALISM.  S23 

unusual  degree  of  skill,  tact  and  perseverance.  The 
limited  size  of  Franklin's  printing  office  may  be  judged 
by  the  fact  that  having  to  set  up  and  print  a  folio  page  of 
a  book  as  a  day's  work,  he  found  it  exhausted  his  font, 
or,  in  the  parhance  of  the  trade,  he  got  "  out  of  letter," 
and  lience  after  printing  a  page,  the  type  was  distributed, 
and  the  task  renewed.  Slow  work,  but  it  was  the  day  of 
small  things. 

Government  Hostility. 
The  jealousy  of  the  colonial  government  was  one  of 
the  chief  difficulties  to  which  the  early  press  was  subject, 
as  is  evident  from  the  suppression  of  the  first  paper. 
James  Franklin,  who  issued  the  Courant,  was  also  the 
victim  of  similar  injustice.  He  was  arrested  for  some 
reflections  on  the  government,  or  as  Ben.  Franklin  says, 
"  an  article  in  our  paper  gave  offense,  and  my  brother 
was  censured  and  ordered  into  confinement  for  one 
month."  James  Frankhn's  release  was  accompanied  by 
the  order  that  he  should  no  longer  publish  the  New  Eng- 
land Courant,  and  therefore  it  passed  into  the  hands  of 
Benjamin.  It  was  a  long  time  a  matter  of  interest  to 
learn  what  was  James  Franklin's  precise  offense,  and 
Edward  Everett,  for  the  purpose  of  satisfying  the  in- 
quiry, consulted  the  MSS.  records.  He  there  learned 
that  the  offensive  article  referred  to  a  pirate  vessel  which 
had  appeared  off  Block  Island,  and  it  concludes  thus : 
"  We  are  advised  from  Boston,  that  the  government  of 
the  Massachusetts  are  fitting  out  a  sloop  to  go  after  the 
pirates  and  it  is  thought  the  captain  will  sail  sometime 
this  month,  wind  and  weather  permitting."  The  insinu- 
ation of  tardiness  was  the  sole  cause  of  this  outrage. 

First  libel  Suit. 
The  same  governmental  opposition  was  manifested  in 


324  Our  Book. 

New  York  where  Peter  Zenger  in  his  Weekly  Journal, 
took  a  bold  position  against  Governor  Cosby.  The  arti- 
cles were  written  by  some  prominent  lawyers,  but  Zenger 
manfully  bore  the  charge.  He  was  arrested  and  tried 
for  libel,  but  the  governor  was  unpopular,  and  public 
sympathy  ran  strongly  in  favor  of  the  defendant,  who 
was  acquitted  amid  the  huzzas  of  the  populace.  Tliis 
occurred  in  1734,  just  twelve  years  after  the  Franklin 
affair,  and  it  seems  to  have  emboldened  the  Boston  peo- 
ple to  that  defiant  utterance  which  marked  the  press  of 
that  city  after  the  passage  of  the  stamp  act. 

Some  old  Names. 

Immediately  after  the  revolution,  Hugh  Gaine,  who 
kept  a  book  store,  started  the  New  York  Gazette,  and 
boasted  of  four  hundred  subscribers.  Samuel  Loudon, 
who  had  left  the  city  during  the  war,  returned  and  issued 
the  New  York  Packet,  and  also  the  American  Magazine. 
The  latter  only  lived  a  year,  and  the  former  was  after- 
ward merged  into  Greenleaf  s  Journal,  which  in  turn 
gave  place  to  the  American  Citizen.  In  1797  the  Com- 
mercial Advertiser  was  started  by  Zachariah  Lewis,  and 
is  therefore  the  oldest  paper  in  New  York.  Four  years 
afterward  William  Coleman  started  the  Evening  Post, 
and  being  a  man  of  fine  taste,  his  paper  became  popular 
in  literary  circles.  Hallock  and  Drake  were  then  the 
leading  New  York  poets,  and  they  honored  the  Evening 
Post  with  their  effusions,  which  bore  the  pen  name  of 
Croaker  &  Co.  Drake's  American  Flag  appeared  in  this 
manner,  and  so  did  some  of  llalleck's  best  things,  includ- 
ing his  monody  on  the  death  of  his  poetic  associate. 
Coleman  died  in  1829,  having  edited  the  Post  for  twenty- 
eight  years,  and  was  succeeded  by  Bryant,  who  held  this 
position   for  fifty-one  years  —  an  unparalleled   extent  of 


lOURNALISM. 


325 


WILLIAM   CT7LLEN   BRYANT, 

editorial  service.  His  staff  included  William  Leggett, 
who  was  one  of  the  leading  men  of  his  day,  and  who 
afterward  issued  the  Plain  Dealer.  WilHain  L.  Stone  of 
the  Commercial  Advertiser,  was  also  one  of  the  strong 
men  of  that  day.  Journalism  has  always  subserved 
patriotism.  Even  the  Federalist  originally  appeared  in 
the  New  York  Daily  Advertiser.  It  consists  of  a  series 
of  eighty-five  articles,  advocating  the  national  Constitu- 
tion, and  wi-itten  in  1787,  soon  after  the  close  of  the  con- 
vention. Hamilton,  Madison  and  Jay  were  united  in 
this  work,  but  the  latter  only  wrote  five  articles,  while 
Madison  contributed  twenty-nine,  and  Hamilton  the  re- 
mainder. The  next  year  they  were  republished  in  book 
form,  and  will  always  hold  distinction  as  the  most  im- 
portant newspaper  contributions  in  the  records  of  Ameri- 
can journalism. 

Foreign  Families. 
Family  editorial  succession     has    been  maintained  in 
Great  Britain  with  remarkable  success,  the  most  noted 


326  OuLi  Booif. 

instance  being  the  Walters  —  so  long  identified  with  the 
London  Times.  John  Walter  was  born  in  1739,  was 
bred  a  printer,  and  was  a  workman  in  London  while 
Woodfall  was  issuing  the  letters  of  Junius.  He  saw  the 
general  lack  of  energy  in  the  profession,  and  knew  that 
there  was  a  field  for  editorial  enterprise.  In  1785,  being 
then  forty-six,  he  started  the  Universal  Register,  whose 
circulation  was  not  more  than  five  hundred  copies,  but  its 
proprietor  had  some  government  printing  which  gave  him 
encouragement. 

In  three  years  the  title  was  changed  to  the  Times,  but 
it  remained  a  very  petty  affair  until  the  second  John 
Walter  assumed  its  control.  He  was  an  infant  when  his 
father  issued  the  Universal  Register,  but  at  the  age  of 
nineteen,  he  took  control  of  the  paper,  its  daily  sale  being 
not  more  than  one  thousand  copies. 

This  was  in  1804.  It  was  a  time  of  intense  mental  and 
political  excitement,  and  under  this  impulse  and  also  tlie 
energy  of  the  new  manager,  the  sale  increased  in  ten 
years  to  five  thousand  copies.  He  applied  himself  closely 
to  the  improvement  of  the  press,  and  the  London  Times 
in  its  thirtieth  year  of  existence,  was  printed  by  steam,  at 
the  rate  of  four  thousand  impressions  per  hour.  This 
was  at  that  time  a  wonderful  achievement.  But  what  im- 
provements have  since  occurred. 

The  second  Walter,  who  gave  the  Times  its  immense 
importance,  died  in  London  in  1847,  and  was  succeeded 
by  his  son  John.  Decay  then  began,  reaching  appalling 
disgrace  in  the  Parnell  affair.    How  are  the  mighty  fallen ! 

EDrroRiAL  Retrospect. 

Looking  back  on  the  history  of  New  York  journahsm,  is 
like  walking  through  a  cemetery,  and  gazing  on  the  monu- 
ments that  bear  the  names  of  one's  friends.     I  have  seen 


Journalism.  327 

sucli  mortality  in  the  profession  that  it  can  not  but  awaken 
many  painful  memories.  Among  others  there  was  the 
Evening  Star,  edited  by  Major  Noah,  who  was  the  best 
paragraphist  of  its  day.  Also  the  Morning  Dispatch,  the 
Daily  Whig,  the  Evening  Signal,  the  Tattler,  the  New 
Era,  the  Plebean,  the  Republic,  and  many  others  of 
equally  attractive  names.  Among  literary  efforts  were 
the  New  York  Mirror,  edited  by  N.  P.  Willis ;  and  also 
the  Broadway  Journal,  edited  by  Edgar  A.  Poo,  each  of 
which  deserved  a  better  fate.  Greeley's  New  Yorker 
made  the  hardest  fight  for  existence  that  ever  proved 
unsuccessful.  For  six  years  Greeley  worked  sixteen 
hours  a  day  in  this  effort,  but  still  it  failed.  Much  of 
this  work  was  writing  for  other  papers  at  a  very  low  rate, 
in  order  to  earn  money  to  sustain  his  own,  where  he  was 
editor,  compositor  and  publisher.  Had  Greeley  sunk 
under  this  disappointment  how  great  would  have  been 
the  public  loss,  but  he  knew  he  had  acquired  experience, 
and  this  led  him  to  fresh  effort  in  the  Log  Cabin,  and 
eventually  in  the  Tribune. 

Ann  Street. 

Those  who  now  pass  through  Ann  street  can  hardly  imag- 
ine the  struggles  which  once  it  witnessed,  in  which  the 
ablest  intellects  contended,  first  for  mere  existence  and 
then  for  superiority.  Greeley  was  an  Ann  street  man 
until  after  the  inception  of  the  Tribune,  which  was  issued 
there  until  its  increase  demanded  more  extended  space. 
Bennett,  too,  first  developed  in  Ann  street,  and  how 
strange  it  seems  that  so  limited  a  place  could  contain  two 
such  giants.  Bennett  was  a  combative  in  anything  which 
miglit  advance  his  paper,  while  Greelej  was  the  earnest 
opponent  of  social  wrongs  and  was  vigilant  to  defend  the 
right.     I  often  recall  these  men  as  they  appeared  in  Ann 


328  Our  Book. 

street  during  my  boyhood.  There  is  the  tall,  ungainly 
form  of  Bennett  with  his  repulsive  face  and  eyes  fixed  on 
the  ground,  moving  hurriedly  along,  mindful  of  nothing 
but  his  paper.  There,  too,  is  Greeley,  with  his  rural  ex- 
pression and  half  a  smile,  notwithstanding  hard  times, 
looking  so  boyish  that  one  could  hardly  believe  that  he 
was  the  man  of  the  New  Torker.  Bennett  then  wrote 
most  of  the  copy  for  his  paper  and  was  also  its  Wall 
street  reporter.  He  had  another  reporter  for  miscellane- 
ous work  and  an  assistant  editor  to  make  up  the  form, 
and  then  two  printers  completed  his  staff.  From  such 
small  beginnings  modern  journalism  has  reached  its  pres- 
ent immense  extent,  and  its  pioneers,  Greeley  and  Ben- 
nett, both  lived  to  see  the  grand  development  of  that  sys- 
tem whose  foundations  they  laid  in  so  humble  a  manner. 

Editorial  Deaths. 

Bryant's  death  was  due  to  over  exertion  in  making  a 
public  address,  but  he  was  a  worn  out  man,  having  passed 
four-score.  David  Hale,  who  began  the  Journal  of  Com- 
merce a  year  after  Bryant's  connection  with  the  Post, 
died  after  a  quarter  century  of  service.  He  was  attacked 
with  a  sudden  paralysis  which  he  survived  but  a  few 
weeks.  This  was  in  1849.  He  was  then  fifty-eight 
while  Bryant  lived  to  eighty-four ;  strangely  the  life  of 
the  latter  was  prolonged,  and  yet  Hale  was  the  strongest 
and  most  vigorous  of  this  remarkable  pair. 

Henry  J.  Raymond  died  suddenly,  and  perhaps  an- 
other so  sensational  and  impressive  a  case  cannot  be  fonud 
in  editorial  history.  I  met  him  one  summer  day  walking 
toward  the  Times  office  in  apparent  health.  "What  was 
my  astonishment  to  read  in  the  next  issue  of  his  own 
paper  the  announcement  of  his  death  !  He  had  left  the 
office  in  the  evening,  after  finishing  his  usual  task,  had 


JOUKNALISM.  329 

attended  a  social  meeting  at  niidniirlit,  and  tlien  returned 
home,  Init  fell  in  a  tit  as  soon  as  he  had  entered  the  hall. 
There  he  was  found  dead  in  the  morning,  and  the  whole 
community  was  shocked  by  this  sudden  and  dreadful  ter 
mination  of  so  active  a  life.  Raymond  was  then  tifty 
and  had  been  a  working  editor  for  twenty-eight  years. 

The  close  of  Bennett's  life  was  totally  in  contrast  with 
that  of  Raymond.  He  was  one  of  the  victims  of  ex- 
treme senility.  After  a  long  life  of  close  application,  his 
faculties  gradually  failed,  and,  as  Swift  said,  he  "  began 
to  die  like  a  tree,  at  the  top."  His  family  kept  him  at 
their  country  seat  where  he  was  drawn  about  in  a  donkey- 
cart  under  care  of  a  servant. 

Later  on  he  was  removed  to  the  Fifth  avenue  mansion, 
where  he  reached  the  extreme  of  second  childhood,  till 
relieved  by  death,  being  then  seventy-six. 

Greeley  died  after  a  short  illness,  accompanied  by  loss 
of  reason.  He  was  the  only  one  of  our  great  editors  who 
became  insane,  and  this  was  really  the  result  of  a  shat- 
tered physical  condition.  His  age  was  sixty,  and  his  life 
was  no  doubt  shortened  by  that  injudicious  and  crushing 
campaign  in  which  he  so  vainly  canvassed  for  the  presi- 
dency. 

N.  P.  Willis,  of  the  Home  Journal,  died  of  a  lingering 
illness,  being  sixty-eight.  James  Brooks,  of  the  Express, 
was  about  the  same  age,  while  his  brother  Erastus,  passed 
three-score  and  ten. 

All  of  these  men  found  graves  in  Greenwood  cemetery, 
except  Bryant,  who  was  buried  at  Roslyn.  Hale  was  the 
first  great  journalist  to  honor  Greenwood  with  his  name, 
and  although  those  of  the  same  profession  who  have  been 
borne  thither  since  have  had  finer  monuments,  none  left 
a  purer  memory. 

The  Bennett  monument  is  the  most  striking,  in  point 
42 


330  Cue  BooiJ. 

of  expense  aud  ornament,  of  the  editorial  memorials. 
Greeley's  is  simply  a  bust  surmounting  a  column,  bearing 
the  description  he  had  designated,  "  Founder  of  the  New 
York  Tribune."  Such  an  array  of  editorial  genius  as 
this  can  be  equalled  by  no  other  cemetery  in  the  world. 

Hebrew  Journalist. 
Mordecai  M.  Noah  holds  distinction  as  the  first  Jew 
who  became  a  power  in  the  political  journahsm  of  New 
York.  He  was  a  native  of  Philadelphia  and  in  early  life 
studied  law,  which  led  him  to  politics,  and  he  obtained 
the  Morocco  consulship,  which  later  on  led  him  to  write 
a  play  based  on  the  Algerine  war.  Returning  to  New 
York  he  started  the  Advocate  which  failed,  and  he  then 
began  the  New  York  Enquirer,  which  was  also  threatened 


MORDECAI  M.    NOAH. 

with  a  similar  fate.  To  escape  this  it  was  fused  with 
the  Morning  Courier,  edited  by  James  Watson  Webb. 
Noah  was  elected  sheriff  and  wielded  great  political  in- 
fluence. He  also  projected  a  colony  of  Jews  on  Grand 
Island  —  a  delusion  which  naturally  failed. 


Journalism.  331 

Newspaper  files  are  the  best  sources  of  information,  but 
are  very  unaccessible,  for  the  most  important  offices  deny 
them  to  the  public.  The  only  New  York  files  within 
reach  are  in  the  New  York  city  library  (in  the  city  hall), 
and  include  twenty-four  volumes  of  the  Herald,  for  which 
$100  a  volume  was  paid  to  a  fortunate  owner.  For 
a  full  set  of  the  London  Times  £5,000  has  been  offered, 
but  in  vain.  The  New  York  Historical  Society  has  the 
files  of  the  Commercial  Advertiser,  which  is  the  oldest 
paper  in  the  city,  but  their  inspection  is  a  privilege 
rarely  conceded.  Their  value  is  beyond  ordinary  estimate, 
and  it  is  now  found  that  it  pays  well  to  keep  such  files. 

In  1844  only  one  man  had  a  complete  set  of  the  Herald 
(besides  the  editor),  which  he  could  have  sold  for  $5,000, 
but  it  was  unfortunately  destroyed  by  fire. 
Rapid  Wokk. 

The  most  rapid,  as  well  as  the  most  laborious  writers 
New  York  has  ever  contained,  were  Greeley  and  Ray- 
mond, neither  of  whom  ever  found  any  assistants  who 
could  equal  them  in  dispatch.  The  self-inflicted  toil  of 
these  master  editors  was  much  beyond  the  severest  labors 
of  their  associates.  For  many  years  Greeley  worked 
fifteen  hours  daily.  His  writings  were  imbued  with  deep 
thought,  and  he  elaborated  a  greater  amount  of  opinion 
than  any  other  publicist  up  to  his  day.  His  American 
Conflict  was  written  under  greater  pressure  tlian  any  other 
history,  the  time  being  only  two  years.  Greeley's  early 
style  was  crude  and  incorrect,  but  he  gradually  improved 
until  he  became  a  master. 

Raymond,  on  the  other  hand,  had  a  better  gift  for 
writing  than  Greeley,  and  his  earliest  contributions  to  the 
press  were  marked  by  a  neat  and  graceful  style.  In  the 
combination  of  rapidity  and  elegance,  Raymond  has  never 
been  equalled.     His  application   was  intense  but  it  in- 


332  OuB  Book. 

creased  with  the  exigencies  of  the  occasion  until  it  some- 
times reached  an  ahnost  incredible  degree.  The  most  re- 
markable instance  of  this  character  was  his  life  of  Daniel 
Webster,  which  appeared  in  the  New  York  Times  imme- 
diately after  the  death  of  the  great  statesman.  It  filled 
thirty-six  columns,  and  though  written  under  extraordi- 
nary pressure,  is  as  admirable  in  style  as  it  is  in  its  record 
of  facts.  Raymond  had  the  material  in  hand  and  no 
doubt  part  of  the  ai-ticle  ready,  but  the  remainder  of  the 
work  was  done  with  the  rapidity  of  ordinary  speech,  and 
the  task  will  long  stand  alone  in  point  of  extended  dura- 
tion and  mastei'ly  success.  Raymond  was  then  thirty- 
two.  He  was  the  smallest  of  our  great  editors,  his  height 
being  not  more  than  five  feet  two  inches,  while  his  frame 
was  so  light  that  one  could  but  wonder  at  his  power,  but 
his  head  indicated  great  expanse  of  brain,  and  this  was 
suflficiently  evident. 

Greeley. 

No  journalist,  either  secular  or  religious,  ever  equalled 
Greeley  in  moral  power,  and  the  public  was  convinced  at 
an  early  period  in  his  editorial  life  that  whatever  might 
be  his  errors  he  was  always  sincere. 

It  was  Greeley's  desire  to  be  simply  remembered  as  the 
founder  of  the  New  York  Tribune,  and  this  is  inscribed 
on  the  monument  that  marks  his  grave.  The  importance 
of  his  services,  however,  has  given  him  a  distinction 
shared  by  no  other  journalist  of  his  day,  and  he  has  taken 
a  position  in  history  far  above  his  contemporaries.  The 
time,  indeed,  has  come  when  his  eccentricities  fade  before 
his  true  greatness,  not  only  as  a  journalist  but  as  a  pa- 
triot. He  was  a  man  of  tender  heart  and  full  of  mercy ; 
but  in  this  was  united  a  love  of  truth  and  a  fearless  de- 
fense of  the  wronged.     He  was  ready  to  throw  himself 


^^i-CiO^ 


JOUKNALISM.  333 

into  the  gap,  and  asked  nothing  of  others  that  he  had  not 
first  done  himself.  When  joii  add  to  this  liis  wonderful 
industry,  his  dev^otion  to  the  greatest  questions  of  na- 
tional polity  and  his  purity  of  motive,  it  is  not  surprising 
that  posterity  accords  lum  peculiar  distinction.  The  ele- 
ments of  his  character,  indeed,  remind  one  of  the  words 
of  Shakesi)eare  in  Cymheline : 

Tht-y  are  as  gentle 

As  zepliyrs  blowing  before  the  violet, 
And  yet  us  rough  (their  blood  enchafed) 
As  the  rudest  wind  that  dutli  shake 
Tiie  mountain  pine.     'Tis  wonderful 
Tiiat  an  invisible  instinct  should  frame  one 
To  royalty  unlearned  —  honor  untaught, 
Civility  not  seen  from  other ;  valor 
That  wildly  grows  in  them,  but  yields 
A  crop  as  if  it  had  been  sowed. 

Addison  in  Journalism. 

Journalism  has  attracted  the  best  intellect  of  every  age 
since  the  inception  of  the  profession.  Addison  in  his 
Spectator,  showed  its  more  elegant  aspect,  but  his  effoi't 
failed  because  he  overlooked  the  important  feature  of 
news.  lie  was  warned  of  the  deficiency,  but  omitted  to 
improve  the  lesson,  although  he  printed  the  communica- 
tion in  which  it  was  contained.  As  a  matter  of  curious 
interest,  I  give  an  extract  from  the  above  which  bears 
date  November  18,  1714: 

Mk.  Spkctator  —  T  wonder  that  in  the  present  state  of  affairs 
you  can  take  pleasure  in  writing  anytliing  but  news,  for  who 
minds  anything  else?  I  have  a  good  ear  for  a  secret,  and  am  of  a 
communicative  disposition.  Hence  I  am  capable  of  doing  you 
great  service  in  this  way.  I  am  early  at  the  ante-chamber,  (of 
Parliament),  where  1  thrust  my  head  in  the  midst  of  the  crowd 
and  catch  the  news  wiiile  it  is  fresh. 

I  stand  by  the  big  men  and  catch  the  buzz  as  it  passes  me.  At 
other  times  I  lay  my  ear  to  the  wall  and  suck  in  many  a  valuable 
whisper.  I  spare  no  pains  to  know  how  the  world  goes,  and  I 
sometimes  sit  all  day  at  a  coffee  house  and  have  the  news  as  it 
comes  from  court,  fresh  and  fresh. 

A  piece  of  news  loses  its  flavor  when  it  hath  been  an  hour  in  the 


334  Our  Book. 

air,  I  love  to  have  it  fresh  anrl  convey  it  to  my  friends,  before  it 
is  faded.  Accordingly  my  expense  for  coach  hire  is  no  small  item, 
for  I  post  away  from  one  coffee  house  to  another  for  this  purpose. 
Once  more,  Mr.  Spectator,  let  me  advise  you  to  deal  in  news. 

Had  Addison  adopted  this  man's  advice,  the  Spectator 
might  have  still  been  in  existence,  but  his  health  was  then 
declining,  and  his  habits  were  beyond  improvement.  The 
Spectator  soon  failed,  and  five  years  afterward  its  founder 
was  laid  in  Westminster  Abbey. 

Another  man  of  genius  who  attempted  journalism  was 

Johnson,  whose  Rambler  appeared  twice  a  week  for  two 

years.     He  was  like  Addison,  deficient  in  the  correct  idea 

of  his  work,  and  when  the  Rambler  failed  he  took  his 

valedictory  in  the  following  words,  dated  March  14, 1752: 

If  I  have  not  been  distinguished  by  literary  honors,  I  have 
seldom  descended  to  the  arts  by  which  favor  is  obtained.  1  have 
seen  the  meteors  of  fashion  rise  and  fall  without  any  attempt  to 
add  to  their  duration.  In  my  paper  no  man  could  look  for  cen- 
sure of  his  enemies,  or  praise  of  himself.  I  have  never  complied 
with  temporary  curiosity,  nor  enabled  my  readers  to  discuss  the 
topics  of  the  day. 

A  more  remarkable  confession  of  stupidity  is  rarely 
found  on  record.  If  Johnson  had  done  just  those  very 
things  that  he  left  undone,  the  Rambler  might  have  been 
a  permanent  institution.  When  an  editor,  however,  gives 
such  a  view  of  his  duty  as  is  found  above,  and  finishes  it 
with  the  statement  that  he  "  never  enabled  his  readers  to 
discuss  the  topics  of  the  day,"  there  need  be  no  wonder 
at  his  failure. 

Another  Blunder. 

Johnson's  reputation  was  so  great  that  the  bookseller 
Dodsley,  when  about  to  start  the  London  Chronicle,  em- 
ployed him  to  write  the  prospectus.  This  proves  that  the 
true  idea  of  journalism  was  not  then  understood.  How 
ridiculous,  indeed,  to  think  that  a  confirmed  pedant  like 
Johnson,  should  know  anything  about  making  a  news- 


JOUKNALISM.  335 

paper  !  It  is  true  lie  refers  in  liis  prospectus  to  the  im- 
portance of  obtaining  news,  but  he  adds  the  following 
statement,  which  reminds  one  impressively  of  the  closing 
paragraph  in  the  Rambler  : 

"We  pretend  to  no  peculiar  power  of  disentangling  contradic- 
tions or  denuding  forgery.  We  have  no  settled  correspondence 
with  the  antipodes,  nor  maintain  any  spies  in  the  courts  of 
princes." 

Johnson  thus  disclaims  those  features  for  which  a  true 
journalist  makes  every  effort,  and  success  in  this  very 
point  is  the  present  boast  of  the  profession.  Of  course 
Dodsley's  paper  proved  a  failure. 

Goldsmith  and  Boswell. 

Goldsmith  wrote  his  popular  letters,  The  Citizen  of  the 
World,  for  the  Public  Ledger,  and  they  are  the  best  frag- 
ments of  journalism  of  that  age — with  the  sole  excep- 
tion of  Junius.  They  appeared  in  1759,  and  are  still 
read,  their  racy  and  sparkling  style  rendering  them  very 
attractive.  Goldsmith  also  started  a  weekly  paper  called 
the  Bee,  but  it  stopped  at  the  close  of  two  months.  The 
best  reporter  of  that  age  was  Boswell,  whose  life  of  John- 
son shows  how  he  would  have  excelled  in  newspaper 
work.  He  had  the  faculty  —  eo  rare  among  biographers — 
of  making  the  reader  realize  the  presence  of  the  persons 
introduced.  One  feels  that  he  has  heard  them  converse, 
and  also  that  he  is  really  in  the  circle  of  friendship, 
and  for  this  reason  Boswell  stands  alone  as  the  master  of 
biography. 

Byron. 

This  famous  author  had  a  strong  desire  to  try  his  hand 
at  journalism,  and  he  looked  on  Moore  as  a  suitable  col- 
league. What  an  interesting  brace  of  editors  these  poets 
would  have  made  !  Byron  wrote  thus  to  Moore  from 
Italy  in  1822: 


330  OuK  Book. 

I  have  been  thinking  of  a  project  for  you  and  me  on  our  return 
to  London,  which  in  my  case  may  be  next  spring.  This  project 
is  to  set  up  jointly  a  weekly  newspaper  —  nothing  more  or  less  — 
with  some  improvement  upon  the  plan  of  the  present  scoundrels 
who  degrade  that  department  —  but  a  newspaper  which  we  will 
edit  in  due  form  and  with  some  attention.  There  must  always  be 
in  it  a  piece  of  poesy  from  one  or  the  other  of  us  two,  and  also  as 
much  prose  as  we  can  compass.  Our  names  though  not  announced, 
will  be  suspected,  and  we  will,  by  the  blessing  of  Providence, 
give  the  age  some  new  lights  upon  policy,  poesy,  biography,  criti- 
cism, morality,  theology,  and  all  other  isms,  ality  and  ology  what- 
ever.    *     *     * 

Why,  man,  if  we  were  to  take  to  this  in  good  earnest  your  debts 
would  be  paid  off  in  a  year,  and  with  a  little  diligence  and  prac- 
tice we  would  distance  the  blackguards  who  have  so  long  dis- 
graced common  sense.  They  have  no  merit  but  practice  and  im- 
pudence, both  of  which  we  may  acquire,  and  as  for  talent  and 
culture,  the  devil  is  in  it  if  such  proofs  as  we  have  given  of  both 
can't  furnish  something  better  than  "  the  funeral  baked  meats  " 
which  have  set  forth  the  breakfast  table  of  all  Great  Britain  for 
so  many  years. 

Moore  was  at  that  time  in  Paris,  exiled  by  his  debts, 
but  he  soon  returned  to  London,  while  Byron,  instead  of 
also  returning,  found  himself  continually  delayed  and 
never  reached  his  native  land  until  he  went  thither,  in  his 
coffin.  In  another  letter  he  says  :  "  With  regard  to  our 
proposed  journal  I  will  call  it  what  you  please,  but  it 
should  be  a  newspaper  to  make  it  pay^  I  copy  Byron's 
italics  to  show  his  earnestness  in  a  scheme  which  never 
went  into  operation. 

Scott  and  Dickens. 
Walter  Scott,  on  one  important  occasion,  served  as  a 
newspaper  reporter,  this  being  after  he  had  reached  his 
highest  point  of  fame.  He  went  from  Edinburgh  to 
London  for  the  purpose  of  attending  the  coronation  of 
George  lY,  and  wrote  an  extended  description  of  the 
scene  for  the  Edinburgh  Journal,  whose  editor  was  his 
special  friend.  It  is  really  one  of  the  best  samples  of 
writing  to  be  found  in  the  journalism  of  that  day,  and 
shows  that  Scott  would  have  excelled  in  this  profession. 


JOUKNALISM.  337 

Dickens,  as  is  well-known,  began  Iiis  literary  career  as 
a  reporter  for  the  Loudon  True  Sun,  and  afterward 
for  the  Morning  Chronicle.  His  odd  pen  name,  Boz,  first 
appeared  in  the  latter,  and  the  sketches  to  which  it  was 
appended  were  the  first  indications  of  his  genius.  These 
instances  (which  might  be  extended)  show  the  connection 
between  genius  and  journalism  in  the  jjast,  and  this  union 
has  now  readied  a  grand  consummation. 

Centre  of  Infoemation. 
^  Whenever  the  New  York  journalists  require  informa- 
tion on  recondite  subjects,  they  seek  it  in  the  Astor  library, 
where  a  number  of  this  class  may  be  found  every  day  niak! 
iug  researches  for  the  press.  You  can  readily  distinguish 
a  newspaper  man  from  all  other  readei-s  by  the  earnest- 
ness of  his  countenance,  and  the  rapidity  with  which  he 
takes  notes.  JJe  differs  also  in  other  points,  and  it  is 
very  interesting  to  see  how  readily  they  master  any  sub- 
ject through  the  facilities  thus  afforded. 

The  Astor  library  contains  two  hundred  and  fifty  thou- 
sand volumes,  the  aggregate  weight  of  which  is  three 
hundred  tons.  When  a  man  looks  into  the  catalogue 
and  sees  how  immense  are  the  literary  treasures  which 
surround  him,  the  effect  is  staggering.  It  impresses 
one  with  a  consciousness  of  his  own  ignorance.  As  1 
gaze  uiwn  the  crowded  shelves,  reaching  to  an  elevation 
of  thirty  feet,  I  may  exclaim  how  many  books  are  here 
of  which  I  have  never  yet  heard  even  the  names !  The 
very  best  readers  are  seldom  able  to  compass  more  than 
a  literature  of  one  nation,  but  in  this  2)lace  how  many 
nations  are  represented  ?  One  may  here  get  an  idea  of 
the  brain  work  which  has  been  applied  to  authorship,  for 
every  volume  in  the  Astor  has  a  value,  due  either  to  its 
author  or  subject.  The  Hbrarian  must  also  know  the 
43 


338 


Our  Book. 


geography  of  departments,  alcoves  and  shelves,  so  that  he 
can  readily  place  his  hand  on  any  volume.  It  will  require 
two  years  of  practice  here  to  become  tolerably  acquainted 
with  this  detail,  but  a  much  longer  experience  is  needed 
to  ensure  a  rapid  reference. 

In  fact  the  Astor  library  is  a  world  in  which  a  man  of 
literary  taste  could  spend  his  whole  existence. 


ENTRANCE  OF  ASTOK  LIBRARY. 


Humble  Beginning. 

When  one  contemplates  the  grandeur  which  modern 
journalism  has  attained,  it  is  well  to  recall  the  fact  that  it 
arose  from  the  humblest  beginning.  Greeley,  for  in 
stance,  reached  jS^ew  York  from  the  west  by  canal  boat 
and  worked  as  journeyman  printer.  Raymond  began 
journalism  by  reporting  on  the  Tribune  at  eight  dollars  a 


JOUKNALISM.  339 

week.  Bennett  came  to  New  York  penniless  and  earned 
a  bare  living  in  a  very  hard  manner,  shifting  from  one 
thing  to  another  as  circumstances  might  direct.  At  one 
time  he  projected  a  commercial  school  and  then  tried  lec- 
turing ;  after  which  he  obtained  employment  on  the  press 
and  eventually  started  the  Herald.  George  Jones  was,  in 
early  life,  a  clerk  not  far  from  the  New  York  Times 
building.  lie,  too,  went  through  many  changes  in  em- 
ployment before  trying  journalism.  Whitelaw  Reid  was 
at  one  time  glad  to  serve  as  a  newspaper  correspondent. 
Joseph  Pulitzer  began  journalism  as  a  reporter.  Thurlow 
Weed  rose  from  the  lowest  rank  in  the  craft.  David 
Ilale,  who  founded  the  Journal  of  Commerce,  had  failed 
in  the  dry  goods  business  in  Boston  and  then  came  to 
New  York  to  renew  his  struggle  for  a  living.  His  part- 
ner, Gerard  Hallock,  was  at  one  time  a  teacher.  Bowcn, 
of  the  Independent,  had  failed  in  the  dry  goods  trade  be- 
fore he  became  a  journalist,  and  it  is  evident  that  the 
greatest  success  in  this  profession  was  born  annd  misfor- 
tune. 

Geeeley's  Confessions. 
I  find  in  occasional  paragraphs  in  the  New  Yorker  a 
view  of  Greeley's  struggles  in  the  effort  to  make  that 
paper  a  success,  and  some  of  them  have  a  ludicrous  aspect 
which  makes  one  smile  even  amid  his  tale  of  trouble- 
Here  is  an  extract  from  one  of  his  personal  references : 

Five  years  and  a  half  have  now  elapsed  since,  young  in  years, 
poor  even  in  friends  and  utterly  unknown  to  the  public,  we  gave 
the  world  the  first  number  of  the  New  Yorker.  On  the  23d  of 
March,  1834,  we  spread  our  sail  to  the  breeze  backed  by  the  mod- 
erate earnings  of  two  or  three  years  of  successful  industry  —  the 
good  wishes  of  some  forty  friends  (mostly  humble  ones  whose 
good  wishes  were  all  tiiey  could  afford  us),  a  sanguine  spirit  (our 
experience  has  mainly  been  since  then),  and  about  two  hundred 
subscribers.  Heaven  bless  them  for  their  generous  reliance  in 
advance  on  our  editorial  capacities  of  which  they  could  have  had 
small  evidence  beforehand.  The  success  of  our  journal  has  not 
been  at  all  of  a  peculiar  character  thus  far. 


340  Our  Book. 

Greeley  made  constant  efforts  to  assist  liis  paper  by 
other  literary  jn-ojects,  one  of  which  is  shown  by  the  fol- 
lowing advertisement  whose  italics  are  copied  : 

The  publishers  of  the  New  Yorher  announce  that  they 
have  fitted  up  a  reading  room  in  connection  with  their  new  oflice, 
No.  1,  Ann  street.  For  the  accommodation  of  the  public  a  bul- 
letin of  news  will  be  kept  up  —  subscription  $5.  Transient  vis- 
itors are  invited,  and  will  be  charged  the  merest  trifle. 

Greeley  also  hoped  to  earn  something  as  a  corre- 
spondent and  his  proposals  sufficiently  prove  that  he  was 
the  founder  of  that  system  of  metropolitan  correspond- 
ence which  now  has  reached  snch  vast  extent. 

To  Editors  and  Publisueks. — The  conductors  of  journals 
desiring  a  correspondent  in  the  city  of  New  York  are  respectfully 
apprised  that  arrangements  for  daily,  semi-weekly,  or  weekly  let- 
ters may  be  effected  on  advantageous  terms  by  addressing  a  line  to 
the  editor  of  the  Netc  Yorher.  Commercial,  political,  or  general 
intelligence  will  be  given  as  desired,  and  the  utmost  exertion 
made  to  forward  early  news. 

Well,  the  New  Yorker  eventually  proved  a  failure, 
that  is  as  a  journalistic  effort,  but  as  a  school  for  a  higher 
sphere  of  labor  it  was  a  grand  success.  Greeley  little 
dreamed  while  conducting  the  New  Yorker  that  he  was  at 
school  for  the  great  work  of  his  life.  Such,  however, 
was  the  case.  It  was  the  ability  displayed  in  this  early 
effort  that  led  Weed  and  Seward  to  make  him  the  editor 
of  the  Log  Cabin,  and  the  Tribune  was  the  next  ad- 
vancing step.  This  gradual  progress,  in  the  midst  of 
conflict,  recalls  the  lesson  with  which  Yirgil  opens  the 
JEneid  : 

Multa  quoque  et  bello  passus,  dum  conderet  urbem 
Inferret  que  Deos  Latio ;  genus  unde  Latinum, 
Albauique  patres,  atque  altaj  moenia  Roma. 

which  may  be  translated.  Much  too  he  suffered  in  war 
until  he  founded  the  city  and  introduced  his  deities  into 
Latium,  whence  sprang  the  Latin  race,  the  Alban  fathers 
and  the  walls  of  lofty  Rome.  Reader,  true  success  is 
always  the  reward  as  well  as  the  result  of  conflict. 


The  Drama.  3-H 

Now,  reader,  for  a  few  pages  on  dramatic  scenes  and  cliar 
acters,  and  of  conrse  I  must  begin  witli  the  one  name  wliicli 
will  probably  always  hold    unapproachable   distinction. 

It  is  evident  that  London  had  a  bad  influence  on  Shakes- 
peare. Great  cities  are  always  dangerous  to  youth,  and 
genius  is  often  early  misled.  The  licentiousness  and  ob- 
scenity which  deform  Shakespeare's  i)l:iys  are  no  doubt 
due  to  the  evil  influence  of  the  theatre,  which  was  his  chief 
resort.  AVheu,  however,  he  was  brought  under  home  in- 
fluence his  writings  were  at  once  improved.  Shakespeare, 
having  wickedly  abandoned  his  family,  spent  thirty  years 
in  London,  and  then  returned  to  Stratford,  where  he  re- 
mained. Coming  back  after  this  long  absence,  he  found 
that  the  deserted  wife  had  brought  up  his  two  daughters 
in  a  reputable  manner,  and  no  doubt  he  felt  ashamed  of 
his  misconduct.  He  built  a  fine  house  and  the  family  was 
reunited  until  separated  by  the  hand  of  death.  Under  sucli 
circumstances  The  Tempest  and  Henry  YIII  were  written 
and  the  careful  reader  will  discern  the  internal  proof  which 
indicates  the  above-mentioned  change.  Shakespeare  has 
of  late  years  been  studied  more  closely  in  America  than  in 
England,  of  which  Richard  Grant  White's  admirable 
volume  (Shakespeare's  Scholar)  is  a  sufficient  proof.  Some 
time  ago  I  attended  an  auction  sale  which  included  four 
hundred  volumes,  all  on  this  subject.  Among  the  num- 
ber was  a  photographic  copy  of  the  first  collected  edition 
(1623),  and  having  seen  the  original  in  the  Astor  library, 
I  noticed  how  closely  the  paper  as  well  as  the  type  was 
imitated. 

Curious  Fact. 

It  seems  strange  to  me  that  so  wonderful  a  writer  should 

go  to  the  grave  without  seeing  his  entire  works  in  print, 

but  Shakespeare  had  been  dead  seven  years  when  the 

above-mentioned    edition    appeared.     Just  think  of  the 


342  Our  Book. 

risk  incurred  !  How  easily  might  these  dramas  have 
been  destroyed  by  fire  !  Their  posthumous  publication  is 
a  reason  for  the  manifold  blunders  which  even  now  per- 
plex critics.  Authors  generally  read  their  proof-sheets, 
but  Shakespeare  was  at  the  mercy  of  the  printer. 

One  advantage,  however,  was  enjoyed  by  snch  a  writer. 
lie  escaped  all  criticism.  His  writings  wei'e  the  develop- 
ing of  his  grand  dreams,  and  he  had  seen  some  of  them 
on  the  stage.  This  was  all,  and  yet  Shakespeare  seemed 
content  and  never  left  a  complaint  "  that  mankind  had 
neglected  him,  or  that  men  of  genius  stand  no  chance  in 
this  world."  He  did  not  wage  war  on  society  like  Byron, 
nor  aspire  to  reform  it  like  Shelley,  nor  even  to  satirize 
like  Pope.  He  sought  not  family  aggrandizement  like 
Scott,  and  never  dreamed  of  the  wealth  of  Dickens  — the 
second  Shakespeare.  He  wrote  in  obedience  to  the  voice 
of  genius,  unconscious  of  his  true  stature,  and  in  his  last 
days  was  content  to  be  Master  Shakespeare  of  his  native 
town,  a  mere  country  gentleman,  who  made  the  best  of 
life  and  was  thought  well  of  by  a  class  of  people  who 
never  had  an  idea  of  his  genius. 

Progress  of  Fame. 

Seven  years  had  elapsed  since  the  funeral  at  Stratford, 
when  the  world  saw  the  first  issue  of  the  poet's  collected 
dramas,  and  this  small  edition  was  sufficient  for  nine  years. 
Then  came  the  civil  war  which  checked  literary  taste, 
while  to  the  severe  simplicity  of  the  Puritans  such  a  book 
was  hateful.  It  did  not  altogether  perish,  but  thirty-two 
years  passed  before  another  edition  was  issued  —  its  ap- 
pearance being  in  1664,  the  time  of  "  the  restoration." 
In  1685  Shakespeare  had  reached  the  fifth  edition,  and 
even  this  impression  is  highly  valued. 

We  find  nothing  in  Bunyan  which  leads  us  to  suppose 


The  Drama.  343 

that  lie  had  ever  read  Shakespeare.  Had  he  become  ac- 
quainted with  the  geuius  which  left  the  world  so  near  the 
time  of  his  own  birth,  he  would  have  been  one  of  its 
greatest  admirers.  Bunj^an  had  so  admirable  a  dramatic 
genius  and  such  a  conception  of  the  beautiful  and  the 
grotesque,  as  well  as  of  the  sublime,  that  he  may  be 
called  the  Shakespeare  of  theology,  and  yet  it  is  probable 
that  he  never  read  a  line  of  the  great  dramatist. 

Milton,  however,  Puritan  as  he  was,  had  been  mas- 
tered by  the  volume  to  which  Bunyan  was  so  complete  a 
stranger,  and  gives  expression  to  his  admiration  in  the 
sonnet  which  speaks  of  "  my  Shakespeare."  From  that 
time  until  the  present  the  fame  of  the  great  author  has 
been  steadily  on  the  increase.  In  1715  Jacob  Tonson, 
the  London  oookseller,  had  Shakespeare's  head  as  a  sign. 
He  no  doubt  desired  to  honor  genius,  but  since  then  the 
highest  order  of  intellect  has  bowed  before  the  dramatist 
who  has  long  stood  alone,  as  Milton  says,  "  the  great 
heir  of  fame." 

Love  Question. 

Was  Shakespeare  ever  in  love  ?  By  this  is  meant  the 
highest  development  of  that  passion.  It  seems  impos- 
sible that  one  should  so  admirably  delineate  the  operations 
of  the  strongest  affections  without  a  deep  experience,  but 
in  this  instance  there  is  an  almost  entire  absence  of  proof. 
True,  Shakespeare  was  a  married  man,  but  seldom  did 
man  of  genius  marry  in  a  more  unsuitable  manner. 

He  was  not,  however,  a  man,  but  merely  a  youth,  for 
when  only  eighteen  he  married  Anne  Hathaway,  eight 
years  his  senior,  in  order  to  protect  her  character.  Soon 
afterward  he  became  a  father,  and  a  youth  without  money 
or  employment  could  be  in  no  condition  to  support  such 
a  burden.     The  next  feature  in  his  history  is  abandon- 


344  OuK  Book. 

ment  of  his  family  and  flight  to  London,  where  he  no 
doubt  soon  became  an  attach^  of  the  theatre.  Under 
those  circumstances  the  question  was  Shakespeare  ever  in 
love,  must  remain  unanswered ;  and  yet  how  could  he 
have  described  the  tender  passion  in  all  its  varied  emo 
tions  without  a  deep  and  potent  experience  ? 

He  EiDictJLEs  Anne. 

Shakespeare,  no  doubt,  felt  keenly  his  matrimonial 
blunder.  He  did  not  love  Anne,  and  being  bound  to  her 
by  wedlock,  it  probably  resulted  in  hate.  He  represents 
her  as  Audrey  in  As  You  Like  It,  and  in  the  coarse,  ill- 
favored  shepherdess  I  recognize  the  wife,  while  the  hus- 
band is  evident  in  Touchstone.  What  a  suggestion  is 
offered  concerning  the  very  nature  of  their  union  when 
the  latter  exclaims:  "Audrey,  we  must  marry  or  live  in 
bawdry."  Even  his  expression,  "  Sweet  Audrey,"  is  mere 
sarcasm,  since  he  has  previously  called  her  a  "  foul  slut." 

Again,  when  he  is  about  to  employ  the  "irregular" 
Martext  to  perform  the  ceremony,  and  Jaques  says: 
"Will  you  be  married  under  a  bush  like  a  beggar?  Get 
you  to  church  and  have  a  good  priest  that  can  tell  you 
what  marriage  is  "  —  his  reply  is  as  follows  :  "  I  were 
better  to  be  married  of  him  than  of  any  other ;  for  he  is 
not  like  to  marry  me  well,  and  being  not  well  married  it 
will  be  a  good  excuse  for  me  to  leave  my  wife." 

This  reveals  that  sophistry  by  which  Shakespeare  may 
for  a  time  have  justified  his  conduct.  Touchstone  and 
Audrey  eventually  come  before  the  duke  fat  the  finale, 
when  so  many  of  the  characters  are  married),  and  the 
foi'mer  thus  explains  his  appearance  :  "  I  press  in  here,  sir, 
among  the  rest  of  the  country  copulatives  to  swear  and  to 
forswear  according  as  marriage  binds  and  blood  breaks." 
Here  I  find   another  allusion  to  his  violated  covenant. 


The  Drama.  345 

Then  follows  a  liighly  uncomplimentary  reference  to 
the  bride :  "  Ill-favored  thing,  but  my  own  ;  a  poor  hu- 
mor of  mine,  sir,  to  take  that  which  no  other  man  will." 
Looking  at  this  part  of  the  play,  as  illustrated  by  the 
author's  history,  it  is  very  clear  that  he  is  giving  his  own 
experience. 

The  Contrast. 

As  You  Like  It  was  written  in  the  early  part  of 
Shakespeare's  life.  The  time  comes,  however,  when  he 
must  return  from  London  to  Stratford,  and  perhaps  the 
political  trouble  of  the  day  had  much  influence  upon  his 
movements.  No  doubt  he  intended  eventually  to  return 
to  the  metropolis,  but  his  untimely  death  shattered  all 
such  plans.  Coming  back,  he  finds  that  this  rude  and 
despised  Anne  Hathaway  has  acquitted  herself  much  bet- 
ter than  he  in  every  point  of  duty.  His  son  (Hannett)  is 
dead,  but  the  daughters  are  grown  up  and  in  reputable 
condition. 

He  builds  a  home  for  them,  for  he  feels  that  his  injured 
wife  deserves  some  act  of  condonement,  and  having  ridi- 
culed her  in  an  early  play  he  makes  amends  by  embody- 
ing a  portion  of  her  character  in  the  unfortunate  heroine 
of  Henry  VIII.  No  doubt  such  a  view  led  to  the 
words  uttered  by  Queen  Katharine,  and  however  ignorant 
Anne  Hathaway  might  have  been,  she  may  have  expressed 
the  same  ideas : 

I  do  desire  you  to  do  me  right  and  justice,  for 
I  am  a  most  poor  Avoman.     Heaven  witness, 
I  have  been  to  you  a  true  and  humble  wrfe, 
At  all  time  to  your  will  conformable. 
Sir,  call  to  mind 

That  I  have  been  your  wife  in  this  obedience 
Upward  of  twenty  years.     If  in  the  course 
And  process  of  tliis  time,  j'ou  can  report 
And  prove  it,  too,  against  my  honor  aught, 
Turn  me  away  and  let  the  foul'st  contempt 
Shut  door  upon  me. 
44 


346  Our  Book. 

The  king's  reply  is  probably  the  real  utterance  of  the 

poet's  heart : 

Go  thy  way,  Kate ; 

That  man  who  shall  report  he  has 

A  better  wife,  let  him  in  naught  be  trusted, 

For  speaking  false  in  that. 

A  very  striking  parallel  is  found  in  Scott's  Fair  Maid 

of  Perth,  bnt  the  reader  of  that  tale  would  never  know, 

had  not  the  information  been  given,  that  the  principal 

object  of  the  author  was  to  make  reparation  to  an  injured 

brother.     Now  if  such  were  the   case  with  Scott,   why 

should  it  not  also  have  been  the  case  with  Shakespeare  ? 

If  the  reader  inquire  concerning  the   former,  I  briefly 

reply  that  Scott  had  a  brother  named  Daniel,  who  became 

a  mere  wreck  and  was  a  blot  on  the  family.     Every  effort 

was  made  in  his  behalf,  but  in  vain,  and  at  last  he  was 

sent  to  Jamaica,  where  he  sank  lower  than  ever.     Daniel 

indeed  was  not  only  a  hopeless  drunkard,  but  to  this  was 

added   the  charge  of   cowardice,  which  the  high-toned 

Walter  could  not  forgive,  and  when  Daniel  returned  to 

the  maternal  roof,  "Walter  refused  to  see  him  during  life, 

and  even  to  attend  his  funeral.     Lockhart  says : 

It  is  a  more  pleasing  part  of  my  duty  to  add  that  he  spoke  to 
me  twenty  years  afterward  in  terms  of  great  contrition  for  this 
austerity,  and  he  took  a  warm  interest  in  a  child  whom  Daniel 
had  bequeathed  to  his  mother's  care,  and  after  the  old  lady's  death 
religiously  supplied  her  place  as  the  boy's  protector. 

Scott's  regret  took  another  shape,  for  Lockhart  says, 
"when  the  Fair  Maid  of  Perth  appeared,  Scott  said  of 
Connochar  (one  of  its  prominent  characters),  '  my  secret 
motive  in  this  was  to  perform  a  sort  of  expiation  to  my 
poor  brother's  manes.''  He  also  told  me  of  the  unhappy 
fate  of  Daniel,  and  how  he  had  declined  attending  his 
funeral."  Connochar,  indeed,  is  a  painful  apology  for 
the  cowardice  of  the  miserable  brother. 

Byron  too  made  a  similar  effort  to  atone  for  unkind 


Shakespearean  Expkessions.  347 

words  (uttered  in  his  great  satire),  and  hence,  when  speak- 
ing of  the  dead  of  Waterloo,  he  says: 

Their  praise  is  hymned  by  loftier  harps  than  mine; 
Yet  one  I  would  select  from  that  proud  throng, 
Partly  because  they  blend  his  line  with  mine, 
And  partly  that  I  did  his  sire  some  wrong. 

Shakespearean  Expressions. 

Whatever  be  Shakespeare's  faults  he  certainly  bears  the 

palm  in  giving  advice.     Polonious'  parting  words  to  his 

son  where  the  latter  is  about  to  leave  home  can  only  be 

excelled  by  the  more  condensed  utterances  of  a  mother 

under  similar  circumstances  —  in  All's  Well  That  Ends 

Well: 

Love  all :  trust  few 

Do  wrong  to  none :  be  able  for  thy  enemy 
Rather  in  power  than  use,  Be  checked  for  silence 
But  never  for  speech. 

Then  too  Wolsey's  counsel  to  Cromwell,  how  grand. 

Coining  down,  however,  to  common  parlance,  the 
power  of  Shakespeare  over  the  public  is  shown  by 
the  extent  to  which  his  jihrases  (and  even  his  slang)  has 
become  incorporated  into  our  language.  In  this  point, 
indeed,  he  is  unequaled.  Among  these  is  "  bag  and  bag- 
gage," "dead  as  a  door  nail,"  "proud  of  one's  humility," 
"tell  the  truth  and  shame  the  devil,"  "hit  or  miss,"  "love 
is  blind,"  "selling  for  a  song,"  "wide  world,"  "cut  ca- 
pers," "fast  and  loose,"  "unconsidered  triiles,"  "west- 
ward ho,"  "  familiarity  breeds  contempt,"  "  patching  up 
excuses,"  "  misery  makes  strange  bed-fellows,"  "  to  boot " 
(in  a  trade),  "  short  and  long  of  it,"  "  comb  your  head 
with  a  three-legged  stool,"  "dancing  attendance,"  "get- 
ting even  "  (revenge),  "  birds  of  a  feather,"  "  that's  flat," 
"tag  rag,"  "Greek  to  me"  (unintelligible),  "send  one 
packing,"  "  as  the  day  is  long,"  "  packing  a  jury,"  "  mother 
wit,"  "kill  with  kindness,"  "mum"  (for  silence),  "ill 
wind  that  blows  no  good,"  "wild  goose  chase,"  "scare- 


34:^  OuB  Book. 

crow,"  "luggage,"  "row  of  pins"  (as  a  mark  of  value), 
"viva  voce,^''  "give  and  take,"  "sold"  (in  the  way  of 
joke),  "  give  the  devil  his  due,"  "  your  cake  is  dough." 

These  expressions  have  come  under  my  own  notice, 
and,  of  course,  there  must  be  many  others  of  equal  famil- 
iarity. The  girl  who  playfully  calls  some  youth  a  "  milk- 
sop "  is  also  unconsciously  quoting  Shakespeare,  and  even 
"  loggerhead  "  is  of  the  same  origin.  ' '  Extempore ' '  is  first 
found  in  Shakespeare,  and  so  are  "  almanacs."  The  "  elm 
and  vine  "  (as  a  figure)  may  also  be  mentioned.  Shakes- 
peare is  the  first  author  that  speaks  of  "  the  man  in  the 
moon,"  or  mentions  the  potato  or  uses  the  term  "eye 
sore,"  for  annoyance. 

Among  other  features  of  common  parlance  which  are 
derived  from  the  same  source  are  "breaking  the  ice," 
"love  at  first  sight,"  "taking  a  nap,"  "too  thin,"  "it 
beggars  description,"  "  packed  cards,"  "  boxing  the  ears," 
"helter  skelter,"  "are  out"  (^.  d.,  rupture),  "sixes  and 
sevens,"  "  chinks "  (for  money),  "  foul  play,"  "  bibble 
babble,"  "give  one's  self  away,"  "  dainty  duck,"  "  virtue 
of  necessity,"  "laying  their  heads  together,"  with  others 
that  mio^ht  be  added. 

Shakespeare  mentions  the  "  properties  "  of  a  play  and 
also  refers  to  "  proving  poison  on  animals,"  and  tells  us 
that  the  "  big  fish  eat  up  the  little  ones."  He  also  refers 
to  ' '  corns ' '  (on  the  toe),  mentions  copy  books  in  school, 
speaks  of  advertisements  and  is  the  first  author  to  use  the 
word  "reporter." 

He  is  the  first  to  use  "antipodes,"  and  also  the  first  to 
speak  of  America,  and  I  find  in  his  pages  "  wo-ha,"  which 
I  presume  to  be  the  same  utterance  now  used  in  driving 
oxen  and  pronounced  "  wo-haw."  He  gives  us  an  idea 
of  the  attraction  of  gravitation  in  the  following  lines  on 
Troilus  and  Cressida : 


The  Drama.  Md 

The  strong  base  of  my  love 

Is  as  the  very  centre  of  the  earth 

Drawing  all  things  to  it. 

He  also  thus  apologizes  for  the  frequent  solecisms  in 
iiis  works : 

We  commit  no  crime 

To  use  one  language  in  each  clime 

Where  our  scenes  seem  to  live. 

How  strange  it  is  that  Rosalind  is  the  only  one  of 

Shakespeare's  leading  characters  that  can  only  be  played 

by  a  tall  woman.     No  one  can  imagine  why  Shakespeare 

required  this  qualification,  but  perhaps  he  had  seen  and 

admired  some  one  of  fine  stature,  and   this  may  have  led 

him  to  make  Rosalind  exclaim : 

were  it  not  better 

Because  that  I  am  more  than  common  tall 
That  I  do  suit  me  all  points  like  a  man. 

A  similar  idea  occurs  in  Mid  Summer  Night's  Dream, 
where  Helena  and  Hermia  are  quarreling  about  a  lover. 
Shakespeare  makes  the  former  tall  and  the  latter  short, 
which  renders  it  necessary  for  the  players  to  be  of  corres- 
ponding stature.     Here  is  is  a  specimen  of  their  tilting  : 

Helena.     Fie,  fle!     You  puppet! 

Hermia.     Puppet!     Ay,  that  way  goes  the  game. 

Now  I  perceive  that  she  hath  made  compare 

Between  our  statures,  she  hath  urged  her  lieight, 

And  with  her  personage  —  her  tall  personage, 

Her  height,  forsooth;  she  hath  prevailed  with  him; 

How  low  am  I,  thou  painted  maypole?     Speak, 

How'  low  am  I?     I  am  not  yet  so  low 

But  that  my  nails  can  reach  unto  thine  eyes. 


Shakespeare  Critics. 

Some  of  Shakespeare's  utterances  have  been  entirely 

misunderstood.     For    instance,  there   is  that   oft-quoted 

sentence,  "  A  touch  of  nature  makes  the  whole  world  kin," 

which  refers  not  to  generosity  but  to  selfishness.     Another 

45 


350  Our  Book. 

is  the  "  beggarly  account  of  empty  boxes,"  which  is  inva- 
riably applied  to  a  playhouse  (when  unsuccessful),  whereas 
it  refers  to  the  empty  boxes  placed  on  a  druggist's  shelf 
to  help  out  the  display  of  goods. 

Shakespeare  has  been  studied  more  closely  than  any 
other  author,  and  yet  the  subject  is  as  far  as  ever  from 
exhaustion.  After  Hamlet  had  been  studied  for  two 
centuries  Henry  Irving  discovered  a  typographical  error 
which  he  corrected  by  a  new  reading — "the  dog  will 
have  his  bay "  instead  of  "  day,"  which  evidently  ia 
correct. 

Among  the  earliest  of  Shakespearean  commentators 
was  Dr.  Johnson,  whose  corrections  of  the  text  were  gen- 
erally well  received.  Since  then  the  number  has  so 
increased  as  to  exceed  my  narrow  limits,  and  yet  the 
theme  is  by  no  means  exhausted. 


RICHAKD  GRANT   WHITE. 

One  of  the  ablest  of  Shakespearean  critics  was  Richard 
Grant  White,  whose  Shakespeare  Scholar  gave  him  high 
rank  in  di'amatic  literature.  I  do  not  accept  all  his  conclu- 
sions, but  he  has  given  some  very  valuable  interpretations. 


Halliwell's  Shakespeare.         "         351 

Halliwell  was  born  in  1820,  and  early  displayed  great 
literary  taste.  His  love  of  Shakespeare  led  to  the  pro- 
duction of  twenty  original  essays  on  that  author,  some  of 
which  reached  the  size  of  a  volume.  Later  on  he  pub- 
lished a  life  of  the  great  dramatist,  soon  after  wliich  his 
ambition  led  to  the  finest  possible  edition  of  the  works  of 
the  latter.  To  this  task  he  devoted  five  years.  It  is  in 
sixteen  volumes  and  was  published  in  London,  at  three 
pounds  and  three  shillings  per  volume,  and  only  one  hun- 
dred and  fifty  copies  were  printed.  This  grand  work 
was  once  offered  in  a  New  York  auction  and  created 
much  excitement  among  the  book  fanciers.  It  was  soon 
run  up  to  $40  per  volume,  which  is  more  than  double  the 
original  cost.  The  entire  set  thus  brought  $540,  which 
is  the  highest  price  ever  paid  for  a  modern  copy  of 
Shakespeare  —  but  what  a  luxury  it  is  to  read  the  great 
dramatist  in  this  perfection  of  typographic  art. 

Shakespeare's  Geography. 
One  of  my  readers  addresses  me  the  following  inquiry  : 

Tou  say  that  "  Sliakespeare  mentions  America."  Will  you 
have  the  kindness  to  inform  me  in  what  play  or  plays  I  can  find 
this  mention? 

My  reply  is  as  follows:  In  the  Comedy  of  Errors, 
act  tliird,  Antipholus  and  Dromio  discuss  one  of  the 
female  characters  in  the  following  geographical  manner: 

Dromio  —  She  is  spherical  like  a  globe.  I  could  find  out  coun- 
tries on  her. 

Ant.  —  Where  is  Scotland  ? 

Dromio  —  Hard  in  the  palm  of  the  hand. 

Ant.  —  Where  France? 

Dromio  —  In  her  forehead. 

Ant.  —  Where  England. 

Dromio  —  I  look'd  for  the  chalky  cliffs,  but  could  find  no  white- 
ness in  them;  but  I  guess  it  stood  on  the  chin. 

Ant.  — Where  America  and  the  Indies? 

Dromio  —  0,  sir,  upon  her  nose,  all  over  embellished  with  ru- 
bies, carbuncles  and  sapphires. 


352  *  Our  Book. 

From  the  above  it  appears  tliat  Shakespeare  shared  the 
general  idea  that  America  lay  adjacent  to  the  Indies,  and 
althougli  Sir  Francis  Drake  had  at  that  time  circumnavi- 
gated the  globe,  the  information  he  had  acquired  had  not 
been  generally  extended. 

Shakespeare  evidently  had  a  taste  for  geography,  and 
his  plays  are  widely  extended  in  point  of  locality.  Among 
his  latest  references  of  this  kind  is  "  the  still  vexed  Ber- 
moothes."  The  Tempest,  in  which  this  expression 
appears,  was  written  at  the  time  an  English  vessel, 
commanded  by  Sir  George  Somers  and  bound  for  Yir- 
ginia,  had  been  wrecked  on  the  above-named  islands. 
Perhaps,  indeed,  that  very  disaster  may  have  led  to  the 
story  of  Prospero  and  the  potent  spells  by  which  he  con- 
trolled the  ocean.  It  is  the  very  play  that  gives  us  the 
old  saying  that  he  "  that  is  born  to  be  hanged  will  never 
be  drowned."  The  same  play  gives  us  Shakespeare's  idea 
of  a  showman,  and  also  of  the  difference  between  charity 
and  curiosity.  Trinculo  thus  exclaims  on  seeing  Caliban  : 
"  A  strange  fish  !  Were  I  in  England  now  and  had  this 
fish,  not  a  holiday  fool  but  would  give  a  piece  of  silver 
(to  see  it).  There  would  this  monster  make  a  man.  Any 
strange  beast  there  makes  a  man.  When  they  will  not 
give  a  doit  to  relieve  a  lame  beggar,  they  will  lay  out  ten 
to  see  a  dead  Indian."  True  enough  at  the  present  day, 
and  it  is  by  rendering  this  idea  practical  that  Barnum  has 
attained  such  wealth  and  notoriety. 

Shakespeare's  Rambles. 
Considering  the  limited  extent  of  Shakespeare's  early 
education,  he  certainly  takes  his  readers  round  the  world 
with  a  facility  which  is  surprising.  In  addition  to  those 
numerous  plays  which  are  limited  to  English  soil,  we 
have  the  Tempest,  located  on  an  uninhabited  island  ;  the 


The  Dkama.  353 

Two  Gcntlcineii  of  Yeroua,  in  Italy;  Twelfth  Niglit, 
Illyria  ;  Measure  for  Measure,  Yienna;  Much  Ado  About 
Nothing,  Sicily  ;  Midsummer's  Niglit  Dream,  Athens ; 
Love's  Laboi-  Lost,  Navarre  ;  All's  Well  That  Ends  Well, 
France  and  Tuscany  ;  Taming  of  the  Shrew,  Bohemia  ; 
Comedy  of  Errors,  Ephesus  ;  Macbeth,  Scotland  ;  Troilus 
and  Cressida,  the  Troad ;  Julius  Caesar,  Rome  and  Phil- 
lipi;  Antony  and  Cleopatra,  Egypt  and  Italy;  Pericles, 
Asia ;  Hamlet,  Denmark ;  Othello,  Italy  and  Cyprus.  If 
the  world  had  only  been  larger  at  that  time  we  should  no 
doubt  have  had  a  still  wider  range  of  territory. 

The  other  Side. 

Notwithstanding  his  wonderful  genius,  Shakespeare  was 
naturally  of  a  low  tui-n  of  mind,  and  has  been  properly 
described  as  "an  inspired  blackguard."  It  has  been 
urged,  in  extenuation  of  this  defect,  that  it  was  due  to  tlio 
age  in  which  he  lived.  This  fact,  however,  is  not  sufficient 
to  account  for  the  incessant  violations  of  decency  which 
mark  his  works.  He  introduces  the  latter  with  an  appa- 
rent gusto,  which  indicates  his  preference.  Hence,  for 
general  reading,  the  book  should  be  cleaned  up,  and  some 
of  his  plays  should  be  omitted.  It  is  painful  to  see  such 
splendid  works  of  genius  as  Macbeth,  Hamlet,  and  even 
Lear,  defaced  with  wanton  obscenity. 

First    American  Amateur. 

Now  that  Shakspeare  is  so  univers:illy  the  object  of  ad- 
miration it  may  be  a  matter  of  interest  to  inquire  who 
was  the  first  American  amateur?  Reader,  should  you 
ask  me  concerning  this  point,  I  reply  that  the  earliest  that 
I  can  find  was  Josiah  Quincy,  the  Boston  patriot,  who  did 
so  much  toward  our  independence,  though  he  did  not  live 
to  see  it  consummated.  He  practiced  law  in  Boston  prior 
45 


354  Our  Book. 

to  the  revolution,  but  failing  health  required  a  voyage 
from  which  he  never  returned. 

His  published  articles  abound  in  quotations  from 
Shakespeare,  and  in  addition  to  these  there  is  still  extant 
a  MSS.  volume  of  extracts  made  by  himself  and  filling 
seventy  pages.  They  were  probably  put  in  this  shape  for 
more  facile  reference,  and  as  this  was  done  when  he  was 
only  eighteen,  it  shows  how  early  he  had  become  the  ad- 
mirer of  the  great  dramatist. 

The  latter  has  since  then  been  steadily  increasing  in  his 
mastery  over  the  American  mind,  until  at  last  it  may 
almost  be  said  that  he  is  better  understood  here  than  even 
in  his  native  land.  It  is  a  very  remarkable  proof  of  the 
appreciation  of  Shakespeare  in  this  country  that  twelve 
copies  of  the  first  folio  edition  are  held  in  New  York,  and 
these  books  are  worth,  in  the  aggregate,  $50,000. 

Bacon  vs.  Shakespeake. 

The  recent  renewal  of  the  Baconian  theory  proves  at 
least  one  thing  in  a  very  decided  manner.  This  is  the 
utter  weakness  of  the  eifort.  The  previous  attacks  on 
Shakespeare's  claims  had  been  so  utterly  forgotten  that 
this  revival  is  almost  a  novelty.  It  may,  however,  be  re- 
vived annually  to  the  end  of  the  world  without  really 
impairing  the  authenticity  of  Shakespeare.  One  very 
strong  point  (as  it  is  claimed)  against  the  latter  is  the  im- 
possibility of  an  illiterate  youth  from  an  obscure  village 
attaining  such  a  wide  range  of  knowledge.  But  to  this  it 
may  be  replied  that  genius  is  beyond  all  rule  or  limitation. 

Perhaps  the  time  will  come  when  it  will  be  a  matter 
of  doubt  that  another  Englishman  equally  illiterate,  and 
also  reared  in  an  obscure  hamlet  and  bred  to  a  mechanical 
trade,  should  suddenly  develop  into  a  wonderful  orator  — 
that  year  after  year  he  should  attract  and  fascinate  vast 


The  Drama.  355 

audiences,  eclipsing  all  rivalry,  and  while  deficient  in 
education  his  diction  should  be  elegant,  his  grannuar  cor- 
rect, and  his  utterances  so  far  beyond  the  power  of  criti- 
cism that  the  latter  was  never  raised  against  it.  Yes,  reader, 
this  may  yet  be  a  matter  of  doubt,  but  at  present  I  find  in 
Gough  one  of  the  most  convincing  arguments  to  prove 
that  genius  is  so  superior  to  all  limitation  that  even  the 
Stratford  hoodlum  might  become  the  author  of  all  that 
is  ascribed  to  Shakespeare. 

The  Converse. 
If  it  be  impossible  for  the  illiterate  Shakespeare  to  have 
written  the  plays  because  of  the  learning  displayed,  then, 
on  the  other  hand,  it  seems  impossible  that  a  man  of 
education,  like  Bacon,  should  have  been  their  author  be- 
cause of  the  ignorance  displayed.  For  instance,  think  of 
Lord  Bacon,  when  writing  Bomeo  and  Juliet,  introduc- 
ing the  curfew.     Yet  it  occurs  in  act  iv,  scene  4  : 

Capulet  —  Come  stir,  stir,  stir !  The  second  cock  hath  crowed, 
The  curfew  bell  hath  rung;  't  is  three  o'clock! 

Here  we  find  the  learned  Lord  Bacon  not  only  intro- 
ducing the  curfew  to  Italy,  but  changing  its  character 
by  making  it  a  morning  instead  of  an  evening  bell. 
Reader,  can  you  believe  that  a  man  of  learning  and  an 
astute  lawyer  could  be  guilty  of  such  a  blunder  ?  Still 
less  could  this  be  done  by  the  author  of  Bacon's  prim 
and  precise  essays,  in  which  every  word  is  so  carefully 
weighed. 

On  the  other  hand,  the  accepted  author  (Shakespeare) 
assumes  that  genius  has  the  right  to  deal  with  such  mat- 
ters without  rule  or  sense  of  propriety,  as  he  says  in 
Pericles,  Prince  of  Tyre,  where  Gower  exclaims : 

By  you  being  pardoned  we  commit  no  crime 
To  use  one  language  in  each  several  clime 
Wliere  our  scenes  seem  to  live. 


S66  Our  Book. 

Pursuing  this  liberty,  Shakespeare  next  introduces  the 

curfew  in  the  far-distant  island,  where  Prospero  exclaims: 

and  you  whose  pastime 

Is  to  make  the  midnight  mushrooms 
That  rejoice  to  hear  the  solemn  curfew. 

Here  we  have  more  regard  to  the  time  when  the  bell  was 
rung,  but  how  impossible  it  were  for  the  learned  Bacon 
to  shift  the  curfew  from  England  to  Italy,  and  thence  to 
the  still  vexed  Bermoothes. 

Sample  of  Bacon. 
Pursuing  this  theory  of  impossibility  the  reader  may 
be  interested  to  read  some  of  Bacon's  acknowledged  writ- 
ings, in  order  to  compare  the  style  with  that  of  the  plays 
Here  is  a  sample : 

It  is  true  that  a  little  philosophy  incliueth  man  to  atheism,  but 
depth  in  philosophy  bringeth  men's  minds  back  to  religion;  for 
while  the  mind  of  man  looketh  on  second  causes  scattered,  it  may 
sometimes  rest  in  them,  and  go  no  farther;  but  when  it  beholdeth 
the  chain  of  them  confederate  and  linked  together,  it  must  needs 
fly  to  providence  and  deity. 

Reader,  think  of  the  author  of  the  above  cumbrous  and 
unwieldy  sentence  being  also  the  author  of  "if  'twere 
done  when  'tis  done,  then  'twere  well  'twere  done  quickly." 

Again,  there  are  utterances  in  Shakespeare  which  con- 
demn Bacon's  crime,  and  I  can  hardly  believe  that  a  judge 
who  sold  the  decisions  of  the  bench  could  ever  have  writ- 
ten such  a  bitter  thing  against  himself  as  the  Avords  of 
Lear: 

See  how  yon  justice  rails  upon  yon  simple  thief. 

Change  places,  handy  dandy,  which  is  the  justice  and  which  is 

the  thief  ? 
Through  tattered  clothes  small  vices  do  appear; 
llobes  and  furred  gowns  hide  all.     Plate  sin  with  gold 
And  the  strong  lance  of  justice  hurtless  breaks, 
Arm  it  in  rags,  a  pigmy's  straw  doth  pierce  it. 

Robes  and  furred  gowns  were  worn  by  the  judiciary, 
of  whom  Bacon  was  chief.     Does  it  seem  possible  that 


The  Drama.  357 

with  his  pocket  full  of  bribes  he  could  have  eveu  in- 
directly thus  referred  to  his  own  crime  ? 

Another  striking  Instance. 

Now  I  propose  to  yield  acceptance  to  the  Baconian 
theory  for  a  few  moments,  because  I  have  found  what  a 
true  Baconian  may  consider  a  strong  parallel  case.  While 
looking  over  an  old  periodical  of  very  respectable  charac- 
ter I  came  to  the  ftillowing,  published  in  London  more 
than  a  century  ago. 

February  25,    1787. 
To  the  Editor  of  tlie  Gentleman's  Magazine  : 

In  the  course  of  a  recent  conversation  with  a  noljlcman  of  the 
first  consequence  and  information  in  tliis  kingdom  he  assured  me 
that  Benjamin  IloIIoway  assured  him  some  time  ago  that  lie  knew 
for  a  fact  tliat  the  celebrated  romance  of  Robinson  Crusoe  was 
really  written  by  the  Earl  of  Oxford  when  confined  in  the  Tower 
of  London;  tliat  his  lordship  gave  the  manuscript  to  Daniel 
DcFoe,  who  frequently  visited  him  during  his  confinement,  and 
that  DeFoe  published  it  as  his  own  production,  and  the  work  has 
been  generally  attributed  to  him. 

W.  W. 

Arguing  in  the  Baconian  manner,  it  might  be  said  that 
the  proof  from  history  in  support  of  this  statement  is 
clear  and  irrefragable.  For  instance,  DeFoe  and  Oxford 
were  contemporaries,  and  they  were  on  the  same  side  in 
politics,  and  both  were  imprisoned.  DeFoe  was  released 
first,  and  naturally  visited  his  old  friend,  who,  being  in 
what  he  supposed  to  be  confinement  fur  life,  entrusted  to 
him  (DeFoe)  the  book  whose  composition  had  cheered 
his  prison  liours.  Another  proof  tliat  Oxford  wrote  the 
book  is  found  in  his  wonderful  literary  taste.  lie  made 
the  largest  collection  of  pamphlets  and  manuscripts  which 
had  up  to  that  time  ever  been  known,  and  these  are  still 
preserved  in  the  British  museum.  A  selection  was  com- 
piled many  j'ears  ago  and  published  in  ten  enormous 
volumes,  entitled  the  Harleian  Miscellany. 


358  Our  Book. 

Continuing  the  Baconian  method  of  reasoning,  if  it 
be  asked  why  the  true  author  of  Robinson  Crusoe 
allowed  another  man  to  carry  off  the  honor,  it  may  be 
replied  that  he  was  probably  afraid  that  his  enemies 
would  turn  it  against  him.  Those,  indeed,  who  read 
Robinson  Crusoe  intelligently  will  at  once  perceive  its 
real  meaning. 

Crusoe  is  the  British  king,  who  has  wrecked  the  ship 
of  state,  and  who,  with  his  man  Friday  (the  prime  minis- 
ter) is  obliged  to  suffer  the  wretched  consequences.  I 
have  not  space  to  designate  other  interesting  points  of 
testimony,  and  in  fact  the  case  is  too  clear  to  need  any, 
but  I  might  add  that  the  marine  character  of  Crusoe's 
great  calamity  is  suggested  by  the  frequent  voyages  the 
king  made  to  his  native  Germany.  Johnson  refers  to 
this  in  one  of  his  satires : 

Scarce  can  our  fields  —  such  crowds  at  Tyburn  die  — 
With  hemp  the  gallows  and  the  fleet  supply. 
Propose  your  schemes  ye  senatorian  band 
Whose  ways  and  means  support  the  sinking  land, 
Lest  ropes  be  wanting  in  the  tempting  spring 
To  rig  another  convoy  for  the  king. 

The  unpoymlarity  of  these  excursions  was  deep  and 
general,  and  hence  the  risk  a  nobleman  would  incur  by  a 
reflection  of  this  kind.  He,  therefore,  naturally  preferred 
to  let  DeFoe  take  the  authorship,  since  being  a  plebeian 
there  was  far  less  risk.  In  fact,  the  Baconian  argument 
is  as  strong  against  DeFoe  as  it  is  against  Shakespeare, 
and  it  can  be  turned  against  any  other  author  who  may 
be  sufficiently  distinguished  to  attract  the  cranks  of 
literature. 

Shakespeare  versus  Bacon. 

The  claim  urged  in  behalf  of  Francis  Bacon  as  the  au- 
thor of  Shakespeare's  plays  suggests  the  counter-inquiry 
whether  Shakespeare  be  not  the  author  of  Bacon's  essays 


The  Drama.  359 

and  all  that  scheme  of  philosophy  which  the  world  calls 
Baconian?  I  fiiul  that  the  affirmative  may  be  proven  by 
the  following  facts  :  First,  William  Sluikespeare  was  con- 
temporary with  Francis  Bacon.  Second,  he  was  a  man  of 
brilliant  wit.  This  class,  however,  has  its  serious  turns 
and  just  as  the  humorist  Sterne  and  the  witty  Sidney 
Smith  both  wrote  sermons,  so  this  Shakespeare  must  have 
liad  his  hours  of  sober  study.  Third,  it  is  highly  proba- 
ble that  he  was  too  timid  and  reserved  to  offer  his  work 
in  his  own  name,  and  hence  assumed  that  of  a  friendly 
lawyer,  preferring  to  appear  by  attorney.  Fourth,  it  is 
very  improbable  that  this  lawyer,  who  falsely  bears  the 
palm,  could  have  produced  such  pure  and  exalted  ideas, 
since  he  was  of  a  very  base  character. 

Turning  from  the  reductio  ad  absurduTn  to  the  plain 
facts  in  the  case,  the  following  question  is  to  be  met :  If 
Francis  Bacon  be  the  author  of  the  above  mentioned 
dramas,  why  did  he  permit  even  one  of  the  number  to  be 
published  under  another  man's  name  ?  Was  he  ashamed 
to  be  known  as  a  dramatist,  or  was  it  due  to  kindness  ?  If 
so,  it  were  an  unheard  of  generosity. 

Men  have  often  been  convicted  of  stealing  the  produc- 
tions of  others,  but  I  have  never  heard  of  any  one  so  lib- 
eral as  to  write  a  series  of  wonderful  plays  and  then  pre- 
sent the  chaplet  of  fame  to  a  mere  attache  of  the  theatre. 
Had  Shakespeare  conferred  any  important  favor  on  Bacon 
there  might  be  some  shadow  for  the  wonderful  generosity, 
but  no  such  idea  is  suggested.  Hence  the  reader  (if  he 
thinks  the  Baconian  hypothesis  worthy  of  notice),  is 
obliged  to  choose  between  the  horns  of  the  foUowino: 
dilemma.  Either  the  dramas  in  question  were  written  by 
the  Stratford  man,  or  else  their  real  author  disowned  them, 
generously  exalting  the  latter  to  the  highest  literary  rank 
in  the  temple  of  fame.     It  may  also  be  mentioned  Shakes- 


360  OuK  Book. 

peare's  works  were  published  in  a  collected  edition  in 
1G23,  tliree  years  before  the  death  of  Bacon,  and  yet  he 
continues  to  make  no  objection.  At  this  time  Bacon  was 
in  disgrace  and  needed  all  possible  assistance.  Why,  then, 
did  he  throw  away  these  dramas  which  would  have  done 
so  much  to  redeem  his  reputation  ? 

The  Gkeek  Drama. 

The  Acharnians,  which  was  so  admirably  rendered  at 
the  Academy  of  Music,  was  written  by  Aristophanes,  who 
flourished  B.  C.  ttOO.  Of  the  sixty  plays  ascribed  to  this 
autlior,  eleven  are  still  extant;  of  these  tlie  Acharnians  is 
the  best  adapted  to  performance,  and  the  public  was  en- 
abled to  form  some  idea  of  the  way  in  which  the  Athen- 
ians were  entertained  by  the  drama. 

The  latter,  at  least  in  tragedy,  had  its  moral  lessons. 
Euripides,  for  instance,  comments  on  the  uncertainty  ot 
wealth.  He  also  speaks  of  the  blessings  attending  tilial 
duty,  and  he  refers  to  the  increased  severity  of  misfortune 
when  it  follows  prosperity.  The  ills  of  city  life  as  com- 
pared to  the  country  are  also  mentioned  by  him,  and  so 
are  the  three  divisions  of  society,  the  useless  rich,  the 
miserable  poor,  and  the  middle  class,  which  really  sup]3ort 
the  state. 

Sophocles  portrays  a  collision  at  a  horse  race,  with  fatal 
result.  He  also  pictures  time  as  the  conqueror,  or  (as  he 
says)  "  Time,  the  mighty,  withers  all  away,"  and  then  he 
comments  on  the  bitterness  of  mutation.  Sophocles  also 
first  gives  us  the  idea  that  life  is  often  a  failure,  and  he 
painfully  contrasts  the  follies  of  youth  with  the  musings 
of  old  age.  He  .raws  the  distinction  between  the  troubles 
which  fall  on  mankind  and  those  which  we  bring  on  our- 
selves, and  he  is  also  the  author  of  that  oft  quoted  utter- 
ance that  no  man  is  to  be  counted  happy  until  after  he  is 


The  Drama.  3Gi 

dead.  Many  other  lessous  ap2)licable  to  the  present  day 
occur  in  these  old  dramatists,  and  perhaps  that  to  which 
experience  most  readily  responds  is  found  in  the  words 
with  which  Euripides  makes  the  Cyclops  reply  to  Ulysses : 
"  "Wealth,  my  little  man,  is  the  deity  of  the  wise  ;  the  rest 
is  mere  bosh."  Ilow  painfully  true  is  this  utterance  at 
the  present  day. 

Thespis  and  Rosctds. 

The  drama  has  held  its  power  over  mankind  from  time 
immemorial.  Thespis  flourished,  it  is  said,  B.  C.  535,  and 
no  doubt  there  was  some  histrionic  leader  before  his  day. 
Roscius  flourished  at  Rome  a  century  before  the  Christian 
era,  and  was  very  popular  among  the  gentry.  He  is  men- 
tioned by  several  writers  of  that  day,  and,  being  a  star, 
drew  enormous  pay.  Like  many  other  stars,  howexer,  he 
was  improvident,  and  fell  a  victim  to  the  harpies  of  usury. 
Cicero,  who  was  his  ardent  friend,  defended  him  from  a 
claim  of  this  kind,  and  a  fragment  of  the  oration  is  still 
extant.  Such  was  the  power  of  the  drama  at  Rome  that 
Gibbon  says  that  during  times  of  scarcity,  when  all  stran- 
gers were  banished,  the  populace  demanded  that  the  play- 
ers should  remain. 

Augustin,  who  was  a  teacher  of  elocution  and  rhetoric, 
but  afterward  became  a  preacher  and  one  of  the  fathers  of 
the  church,  gives  in  his  confessions  the  following  expe- 
rience : 

Stage  plays  also  carried  me  away,  and  that  acting  best  pleased 
me  which  drew  tears  from  me.  Why  is  it  that  man  desires  to  be 
sad,  behohling  doleful  and  tragical  things  whicli  he  himself  would 
by  no  means  suffer  ?  Yet  he  desires  as  a  spectator  to  feel  sorrow 
at  them,  and  this  very  sorrow  is  his  pleasure.  The  auditor  is  not 
called  on  to  relieve,  but  only  to  grieve,  and  he  applauds  the  actor 
the  more  he  grieves.  And  if  the  calamities  be  so  acted  that  the 
spectator  be  not  moved  to  tears,  then  he  goes  away  disgusted, 
but  if  he  be  moved  to  passion,  then  he  stays  intent  and  weeps  for 

joy- 

46 


362  Our  Book. 

Mankind  loves  that  which  awakens  sympathy,  as  Cole- 
ridge said  of  the  object  of  his  affections : 

She  loves  me  best  when  e'er  I  sing 
The  songs  that  make  her  grieve. 

Irving  also  confesses  the  same  tendency,  for  he  says 
that  when  he  was  a  little  boy  his  sister  Nancy  would  sing 
the  touching  ballad  of  William  and  Mary  until  he  cried, 
and.when  she  stopped  he  would  exclaim:  "  Sing  it  again  !" 
Like  Augustin,  he  loved  to  be  made  to  weep. 

MoETUARY  Record. 

Taking  a  retrospect  of  the  British  stage  it  may  be 
noticed  that  few  of  its  distinguished  members  were 
buried  in  London,  though  they  won  their  greatest 
triumphs  on  the  metropolitan  boards.  The  only  play- 
actor buried  in  Westminster  Abbey  was  Barton  Booth, 
who  died  in  1743.  He  was  one  of  the  stars  of  that  day 
and  the  success  of  the  family  in  subsequent  years  shows 
that  it  is  an  inherent  gift.  Garrick,  who  was  the  best 
Shakespearian  delineator  the  world  ever  saw,  won  his 
fame  in  London,  but  was  buried  in  his  native  Litchfield, 
where  his  monument  is  to  be  seen,  being  ©ne  of  the  chief 
ornaments  of  the  cathedral. 

John  Philip  Kemble  won  life-long  admiration  in  Ham- 
let. He  seemed  born  for  this  part  and  his  friends  never 
wished  him  in  any  other.  He  was  for  many  years  the 
pride  of  Drury  Lane  and  commanded  a  degree  of  ap- 
])lause  which  might  have  satisfied  a  much  higher  ambition. 
After  a  long  and  successful  histrionic  career  he  retired  to 
Lausanne  for  the  benefit  of  his  health  and  died  there 
February  26,  1823,  being  then  in  his  66th  year. 

Kean  succeeded  Kemble  on  the  British  boards  and  was 
in  many  points  a  wonderful  performer.  He  could  sing, 
fence  and  dance  with  inimitable  skill,  and  was  not  only 


The  Dkama.  303 

a  remarkable  acrobat  but  was  also  one  of  tlie  most  im- 
pressive tragedians  of  his  day.  In  Kichard  III  lie  was 
beyond  rivalry.  He  visited  America  twice,  and  was,  as 
might  have  been  expected,  greatly  admired.  Heturn- 
ing  to  London  he  played  Othello  to  his  son  Charles'  lago, 
but  during  the  performance  fainted  and  would  have  sunk 
to  the  ground  had  not  Charles  caught  him  in  his  arms. 
He  died  soon  afterward,  his  death  being  in  no  small 
degree  the  result  of  intemperance.  This  occurred  May 
15,  1833,  his  age  being  only  forty-six.  He  was  buried 
in  the  village  of  Kichmond-on-the-Thames,  ten  miles  from 
London.  It  may  be  added  that  Queen  Elizabeth  also 
died  in  the  same  town,  which  is  one  of  the  most  beautiful 
resorts  in  the  vicinity  of  the  British  metropolis. 

Charles  Matthews. 
This  man  was  the  most  distinguished  comedian  of  his 
day,  and  reached  a  ])osition  seldom  accorded  to  -mere 
humor.  He  visited  America  twice  with  great  success. 
His  death  occurred  June  23,  1835,  just  aa  he  reached  his 
sixtieth  year,  and  he  was  buried  in  Plymouth,  where  he 
had  passed  his  last  days.  Another  Matthews  won  a  name 
on  the  stage  and  then  also  passed  away,  his  monument 
being  in  Kensal  Green.  It  bears  this  curious  inscription  : 
"  Sacred  to  the  memory  of  Charles  James  Matthews. 
Born  December  26,  1803.  Died  June  24,  1878.  Aged 
seventy-four.  Oh  bliss  when  all  in  circle  drawn  about 
him.  Heart  and  ear  fed  to  hear  him.  How  good  !  how 
kind  !  and  he  is  gone.     In  memoriam." 

SHERroAN    AND    OtHERS. 

Congreve  and  Ben  Johnson  were  buried  in  Westmin- 
ster Abbey,  also  Gay,  who  wrote  the  Beggars'  Opera, 
which  had  a  reniarkable  run  and  was  the  forerunner  of 


364  Our  Book. 

the  present  comic  opera.  The  only  modern  dramatist 
buried  in  Westminster  Abbey  was  Richard  Brinsley  Sheri- 
dan, the  most  brilhant  man  of  his  day.  He  was  tlieatrica4 
manager,  playwright,  and  also  member  of  parliament, 
and  was  successful  in  each  position,  but  his  thriftless 
habits  and  gross  intemperance  led  to  a  life  of  misery. 
He  died  in  London  June  7, 1816,  being  then  in  his  sixty- 
fifth  year,  and  was  almost  under  arrest  during  his  last 
illness.  Byron  was  among  his  acquaintances  and  was  in 
some  points  influenced  by  his  evil  example, 

JVIacready  was  buried  at  Kensal  Green,  in  the  same 
vault  with  his  wife  and  children,  and  the  commemorative 
tablet  bears  the  following  touching  utterance  from  Gray's 
Elegy : 

There  they  alike  in  trembling  hope  repose 
The  bosom  of  their  Fatlier  and  tlieir  God. 

Talma,  who  was  the  grandest  of  French  tragedians, 
was  "buried  in  Pere  La  Chaise.  Foote,  the  "  English 
Aristophanes,"  as  he  was  sometimes  styled,  died  and  was 
buried  at  Dover.  He  was  the  first  performer  that  made 
religion  the  butt  of  stage  wit  which  he  did  incessantly, 
often  ridiculing  Whitefield.  He  died  October  24,  1777, 
being  then  in  his  fifty-eighth  year, 

Cooke. 

The  first  British  performer  who  died  in  America  was 
George  Frederick  Cooke,  the  famous  tragedian,  whose 
monument  has  for  many  years  been  a  marked  feature  in 
St.  Paul's  churchyard.  He  was  born  in  London  and  was 
bred  a  printer,  but  his  love  of  the  drama  led  him  to  the 
staore  on  which  he  reached  eminence.  He  was  noted  for 
his  power  in  Macbeth  and  other  important  characters. 
His  genius,  however,  was  debased  by  intemperance,  and 
this  vice  eventually  destroyed  him.     He  was  the  first 


TuE  Drama.  3G5 

British  star  that  came  to  this  coimtrj  and  won  great  dis- 
tinction on  the  American  stage,  but  died  suddenly  in  New 
York,  September  20,  1812,  and  was  buried  in  St.  Paul's. 
Eight  years  after  his  death  Kean  came  hither  and 
erected  tlie  monument  to  which  refei'ence  has  been  made. 
Twenty  years  afterward  it  was  repaired  by  his  son  Charles, 
wlio  came  to  America  on  a  professional  engagement. 
After  a  lapse  of  twenty  additional  years  Sothern,  the 
well  known  comedian,  came  hither  from  London,  and  at 
his  own  expense  the  entire  work  was  cleaned  and  put  in 
good  condition.  Each  of  tliese  men  placed  his  name  on 
the  monument,  which  is  the  only  one  which  thus  bears 
the  mark  of  three  successive  generations. 

Booth. 

Junius  Brutus  Booth  was  the  second  British  player  of 
note  to  find  a  grave  in  America.  He  was  remarkably 
gifted  in  the  highest  walk  of  tragedy,  but  his  intemperate 
habits  prevented  that  degree  of  success  which  might  have 
been  expected.  He  was,  as  Kichard  III,  almost  unri- 
valed, being  as  great  in  that  character  as  his  son  Edwin 
is  in  Hamlet.  Booth  died  in  1852,  being  then  fifty-six 
years,  and  is  buried  at  his  former  residence  near  Balti- 
more. He  was  a  great  admirer  of  John  Wilkes  and  gave 
that  name  to  his  son,  the  subsequent  murderer  of  Lincoln. 

Edwin  Forrest  died  at  sixty-six  and  was  buried  at 
Philadelphia  where  he  founded  an  institution  for  decayed 
actors,  but  his  scheme  has  not  been  successful.  How 
much  better  would  it  have  been  had  he  carried  it  out  by 
personal  attention.  In  the  same  manner  had  A.  T.  Stew- 
art fitted  up  his  lodging  house  for  girls  instead  of  leaving 
it  for  Judge  Hilton,  it  might  have  proved  a  success. 

Tyrone  Power  was  the  only  prominent  player  that 
was  ever  lost  at  sea.     He  was  one  of  the  passengers  in 


366  Our  Book. 

the  ill-fated  President,  which  was  the  first  ocean  steamei 
that  was  never  heard  from  after  leaving  port. 

Gkeenwood  Graves. 

The  record  of  this  famous  cemetery  includes  the  names 
of  more  than  fifty  actors,  one  of  whom  is  Mrs.  Duif,  who 
played  Lady  Macbeth  with  George  Frederick  Cooke. 
She  was  thirty  years  younger  than  the  latter,  whom  she 
long  survived,  and  at  the  time  of  her  death  she  was  the 
last  of  the  players  who  charmed  the  public  when  Irving 
was  a  young  man.  William  K.  Blake  and  J.  W.  Halleck 
are  also  in  the  same  record,  both  men  of  great  power,  and 
to  these  is  added  the  name  of  Hai*ry  Placide,  who  was 
the  most  inimitable  comedian  of  his  day.  I  well  remem- 
ber him  as  one  of  the  attractions  of  the  old  Park,  where 
he  was  a  permanent  favorite. 

A  plain  monument,  bearing  the  name  of  "  Eliza,  wife 
of  Captain  Brevoort,"  recalls  another  former  favorite.  Her 
stage  name  was  Mrs.  Sharp  and  she  played  Lady  Macbeth 
admirably,  with  Charles  Kean  in  the  title-role.  The  once 
notorious  Lola  Montez  also  found  a  grave  in  Greenwood, 
but  the  inscription  on  the  stone  is  simply  "  Mrs.  Eliza  Gil- 
bert, died  January  17,  1861."  Since  then  a  large  num-. 
bcr  of  performers  have  joined  the  silent  multitude  of 
Greenwood,  including  some  who  commanded  popular  ap- 
plause to  a  rare  and  remarkable  degree. 

Platers'  Ages. 
Players  have  attained  more  than  the  average  of  human 
life,  this  being  no  doubt  mainly  due  to  the  fact  that  only 
those  who  are  in  good  health  adopt  the  profession.  I 
have  already  mentioned  that  Garrick  died  at  sixty-three, 
and  John  Philip  Kemble  at  sixty-six,  but  Mrs.  Siddons 
(sister  of  the  latter)  reached  seventy-six.     Another  sister, 


The  Drama.  367 

also  a  player,  died  at  seventy-live.  Edmund  Kean  died  at 
forty-six,  but  he  was  wrecked  by  intemperance.  Cooke 
who  was  also  a  hard  drinker,  lived  to  fifty-five.  Charles 
Kean,  however,  reached  old  age,  and  so  did  his  wife,  the 
once  admired  Ellen  Tree  who  once  charmed  the  audience 
at  the  Park. 

Macready  died  at  eighty-two  ;  he  was  a  hard  worker  and 
did  a  life-long  service  on  the  stage,  but  w^as  temperate 
and  careful  in  his  habits.  Junius  Brutus  Booth,  on  the 
other  hand,  died  at  fifty-six,  having  long  been  the  victim 
of  intemperance.     Harry  Placide  lived  to  be  an  old  man. 

Charlotte  Cushman  was  past  sixty  at  the  time  of  her 
death  and  may  be  mentioned  as  the  most  distinguished 
member  of  the  profession  buried  in  Mount  Auburn. 
Cooper,  who  was  the  star  of  the  Park  in  Irving's  early 
days,  lived  to  be  an  old  man,  and  many  other  similar 
instances  might  be  mentioned.  Among  later  names  is 
that  of  Chanfrau,  who  was  forty  years  before  the  public 
and  reached  full  three  score,  while  John  Gilbert  played 
more  than  a  half  century  and  died  at  eighty. 

Prologues  and  Epilogues. 
In  old  times  prologues  and  epilogues  were  in  constant 
use,  the  former  being  spoken  before  the  play  and  the  lat- 
ter on  its  conclusion.  The  custom  however,  has  lono- 
been  discontinued,  but  it  may  be  well  to  mention  that 
some  of  our  most  common  proverbs  are  found  in  these 
forgotten  productions.  For  instance  "let  them  laugh 
that  win,"  occurs  in  Garrick's  e])ilogue  to  the  English 
Merchant.  "All  the  world  and  his  wife"  is  found  in 
Foote's  prologue  to  the  Trip  to  Paris.  "  Give  the  devil 
his  due  "  occurs  in  one  of  Dryden's  epilogues.  "  Make 
hay  while  the  sun  shines"  is  in  a  prologue  by  George 
Colman.     "A  fellow-feeling  makes  one  wondrous  kind  " 


368  Our  Book. 

occurs  in  Garrick's  prologue  on  leaving  the  stage.  "  Stu- 
dious to  please  but  not  ashamed  to  fail"  is  in  Johnson's 
prologue  to  his  unfortunate  tragedy  Irene.  The  word 
"  journalist  "  I  first  find  in  the  epilogue  to  Ignoramus, 
played  in  1747,  where  the  speaker  exclaims: 

For  not  in  law  alone  could  I  appear, 
My  parts  would  shine  in  any  sphere; 
I  could  turn  journalist  and  write 
With  little  wit  and  large  recruits  of  spite. 

It  may  seem  strange  to  see  the  use  of  epilogues  cen- 
sured in  one  of  these  very  productions,  and  yet  I  find  the 
following  in  an  epilogue  written  in  1734: 

I  have  been  peeping  for  these  many  days 
In  the  tail  of  all  the  Greek  and  Latin  plays, 
And  after  strictest  search  in  none  can  find 
An  epilogue  like  a  dish  clout  pinned  behind. 
These  ancient  bards  knew  when  the  play  was  done, 
Nor  like  Sir  Martin  Mar  —  all,  still  played  on; 
They  imitated  nature  in  their  plan, 
Nor  made  a  monkey  when  they  meant  a  man. 

"What  a  hit  at  the  development  theory  in  the  last  two 

lines.    That  "  damning  a  play  "  is  nothing  new  is  shown  by 

the  following  lines  in  the  prologue  to  Nero,  dated  1675. 

I'm  told  that  some  are  present  here  to  day, 
Who  e'er  they  see,  resolve  to  damn  the  j^lay. 

The  only  really  important  production  of  this  kind  is 

Shakespeare's  epilogue  to  the  Tempest  in  which  we  have 

the  confession  of  a  bad  life  and  a  prayer  for  forgiveness, 

as  may  be  seen  from  the  closing  lines : 

And  my  ending  is  despair 
Unless  I  be  relieved  by  prayer, 
Which  pierces  so  that  it  assaults, 
Mercy  itself  —  and  frees  from  faults. 
As  you  from  crimes  would  pardoned  be 
Let  your  indulgence  set  me  free. 

This  appeal  to  the  reader  for  release  from  censure  is 
enough  to  awaken  sympathy  and  also  the  hope  that  the 
once  vice-stained  dramatist  eventually  found  mercy. 


Gakrick.  ?>C)9 

In  S2)eaking  of  the  greatest  player  of  the  last  century, 
I  begin  at  his  death.  This  leads  nie  to  say  that  Garrick 
was  then  sixty-three,  and  his  usual  health  had  been 
such  as  to  give  promise  of  longevity.  Hence  the  general 
surjirise.  As  Johnson  wrote  to  a  friend  soon  after  the 
funeral :  "  Futurity  is  uncertain ;  poor  Garrick  had 
many  futurities  in  his  head  which  death  intercepted  —  a 
death,  I  believe,  totally  unexpected.  He  did  not,  even  in 
his  last  hour,  seem  to  think  his  life  in  danger."  John- 
son was  deeply  interested  in  Garrick,  because  the  latter 
was,  at  one  time  his  pupil,  and  they  entered  London 
together,  a  pair  of  fortune  seekers,  each  of  whom  reached 
eminence,  but  how  different  were  their  paths  ! 

Johnson  and  Garrick  were  from  the  same  town,  Litch- 
field, where  the  father  of  the  latter,  a  retired  half-pay 
ofiicer,  was  trying  to  bring  up  a  family  of  boys  on  his 
slender  income.  When  Johnson  opened  a  boarding 
school  Garrick  became  a  scholar,  and  used  to  amuse 
himself  by  mimicking  his  master  and  also  Mrs.  Johnson, 
who  was  nearly  double  the  age  of  her  husband.  The 
school  failed  and  both  teacher  and  pupil  tlien  went  to 
London,  where  the  latter  opened  a  wine  store  in  partner- 
ship with  his  brother,  the  capital  being  a  bequest  from  a 
recently  deceased  uncle. 

Garrick's  attention,  however,  was  quickly  turned  to  the 
drama.  He  had  while  a  boy  won  a  name  for  such  per- 
formances, and  he  soon  felt  the  overcoming  power  of  a 
life-absorbing  passion.  This  led  him  to  attempt  the 
stage,  but  in  a  manner  so  obscure  that  a  failure  could 
inflict  no  injury.  He  obtained  permission  to  appear  in  a 
country  theatre  as  Oronooko,  his  role  being  one  that 
required  him  to  blacken  his  face,  and  to  add  to  the  con- 
cealment, he  assumed  the  stage  name  of  Lyddal.  As 
it  was  the  first  instance  of  the  kind,  Garrick  may  be 
47 


370  OuK  Book. 

considered  the  originator  of  a  disguise  whicli  has  now 
become  general. 

His  success  was  so  marked  that  it  led  to  his  appearance 
in  London  a  few  months  afterward,  and  he  made  his 
dehut  in  a  small  theatre  in  the  role  of  Richard  III,  It 
was  an  immediate  triumph,  and  gave  him  at  once  the 
foremost  rank.  In  this  manner  a  young  man  of  tweuty- 
five,  of  no  previous  experience  and  newly  come  from  the 
country  stepped  to  the  summit  of  high  tragedy.  Most 
performers  require  long  practice  to  walk  the  stage,  but 
Garrick  showed  himself  at  home  even  at  Drury  Lane 
and  Covent  Garden.  He  was  the  star  of  London,  and 
held  this  distinction  until  the  end. 

Johnson's  Feelings. 
The  difference  between  the  success  of  these  two  adven- 
turers was  so  marked  as  to  awaken  the  natural  jealousy  of 
one  who  had  been  obliged  to  grovel  for  a  living  amid  a 
hungry  crowd  of  hack  writers,  while  his  former  pupil  so 
rapidly  rose  to  wealth.  They  occasionally  met  and 
renewed  their  friendship,  but  Johnson  for  a  long  time 
felt  keenly  the  difference  in  their  fortunes.  As  soon, 
however,  as  Garrick  obtained  control  of  Covent  Garden, 
he  produced  Johnson's  play  of  Irene,  which  certainly 
showed  grateful  remembrance.  This  play  was  begun 
while  Johnson  was  keeping  boarding  school,  and  his 
ambition  was  thus  gratified  by  his  former  pupil,  but  the 
author  was  grievously  disappointed,  for  Irene  proved  a 
hopeless  failure. 

Chief  Characteristics. 
Aside  from  histrionic  genius,  the  peculiar  points  in  Gar- 
rick's  character  were  vanity  and  generosity.     At  John- 
son's request  he  gave  a  benefit  to  the  blind  protege  of  the 


Gakkick.  371 

former  (Miss  Williams),  which  cleared  £200.  Johnson 
said  that  Garrick,  though  brought  up  in  extreme  poverty, 
was  very  liberal.    To  quote  the  words  of  the  lexicographer : 

Garrick  was  a  very  good  man,  the  cheerfulest  man  of  his 
age;  a  decent  liver  in  a  profession  which  is  supposed  to  give 
indulgence  to  licentiousness,  and  a  man  wlio  gave  away  freely 
the  money  he  had  earned.  He  was  bred  in  a  family  wliosc  study 
it  was  to  make  four  pence  do  as  mucli  as  others  make  four  pence 
half-penny  do,  but  when  he  got  money  he  gave  away  more  than 
any  other  man  in  England. 

Garrick,  though  generous,  was  opposed  to  waste,  and 
Johnson  mentions  that  on  one  of  his  visits,  "  JMrs.  Wof- 
fington  (better  known  as  Peg  Woffington)  made  the  tea 
at  the  table  and  as  it  was  too  strong  she  was  found  fault 
with.'-  Peg  was  a  great  favorite,  but  Garrick  would  not 
permit  waste  in  any  one.  The  great  histrionist  was  often 
censured  for  vanity  which  certainly  was  very  natural,  con- 
sidering the  applause  he  had  received  for  a  life-time  — 
but  Goldsmith's  raillery  of  this  weakness  is  evidently  too 
pointed  to  be  accurate.  I  allude  to  that  admirable  jeu 
d' esprit  Retaliation ,  from  which  I  make  the  following 
extract : 

Here  lies  David  Garrick  —  describe  him  he  who  can, 

An  abridgment  of  all  tliat  was  pleasant  in  man, 

As  an  actor,  confessed  without  rival  to  shine. 

As  a  wit,  if  not  first,  in  the  very  first  line, 

Yet  with  talents  like  these  and  an  excellent  heart, 

The  man  had  his  failings  —  a  dupe  to  his  art. 

Like  an  ill-judged  beauty,  his  colors  he  spread, 

And  beplastered  with  rouge  his  own  natural  red, 

On  the  stage  he  was  natural,  simple,  affecting, 

'T  was  only  that  wlien  he  was  off  he  was  acting. 

With  no  reason  on  earth  to  go  out  of  his  way, 

He  turned  and  he  varied  full  ten  times  a  day. 

Though  secure  of  our  hearts,  he  was  confoundedly  sick, 

If  they  were  not  his  own  by  finessing  and  trick. 

He  cast  off  his  friends  like  a  huntsman  his  pack. 

For  he  knew  when  he  pleased  he  could  whistle  them  back. 

Of  praise  a  mere  glutton,  he  swallowed  what  came, 

And  the  puff  of  a  dunce  —  he  mistook  it  for  fame, 

Till  his  relish  grown  callous,  almost  to  disease. 

Who  peppered  the  highest  was  surest  to  please. 


372  OuK  Book. 

That  this  above  picture  is  overdrawn  is  evident  from 
the  words  of  Johnson ;  "  How  little  Garrick  assumes. 
Other  celebrated  men  have  had  their  applause  at  a  dis- 
tance, but  Garrick  had  it  dashed  in  his  face,  and  sounded 
in  his  ears,  and  went  home  every  night  with  tlie  plaudits 
of  a  thousand." 

Domestic  Life. 

Garrick  married  an  actress  (M'lle  Yiolette)  who  had  a 
handsome  portion,  and  they  lived  in  such  harmony  that 
it  affords  a  marked  contrast  with  the  usual  matrimonial 
difficulties  of  the  profession.  His  moral  character  re- 
mained stainless  to  the  end.  Mrs.  Garrick  survived  him 
forty-three  years,  and  died  in  1822,  being  then  ninety- 
eight.  Jolmson  mentions  that  he  met  her  two  years  after 
the  loss  of  her  husband,  on  which  occasion  she  said,  "  that 
death  was  now  the  most  agreeable  object  to  her  thoughts." 
IIow  sad  to  think  that  she  had  to  wait  such  a  length  of 
time! 

The  best  sketch  we  have  of  Garrick  is  given  by  a  lady 
friend,  who  wrote  thus  :  "  I  see  him  now  in  his  dark  blue 
coat,  the  button-holes  bound  with  gold,  a  small  cocked 
hat  laced  with  gold  —  his  countenance  never  at  rest,  and 
indeed  seldom  his  person."  When  in  the  country  he 
gave  way  to  his  natural  volatility,  dashing  out  on  the 
lawn  in  quest  of  friends  and  acting  on  tlie  impulse  of  the 
moment.  As  a  performer  Garrick  had  a  mastery  over 
the  highest  walk,  both  of  tragedy  and  comedy,  and  hence 
was  painted  thus  by  Reynolds  —  whose  picture  has  often 
been  engraved. 

Garrick,  as  has  been  mentioned,  died  suddenly  in  1779, 
being  then  in  his  sixty-third  year,  and  was  buried  in  his 
native  town  of  Litchfield,  where  his  monument  is  one  of 
the  marked  features  in  tlie  cathedral.  The  Shakespeare 
jubilee  at  Stratford  was  one  of  the  most  prominent  events 


Garrick.  373 

in  his  life.  It  took  place  in  1769  and  was  afterward 
dramatised  and  had  a  run  at  Drnry  Lane  of  ninety-two 
nights  —  a  success  which  had  never  been  known  before. 
Neither  the  British  nor  the  American  stage  has  ever  pro- 
duced iiis  equal,  for,  though  Booth  is  probably  as  great  in 
Hamlet^  he  has  no  comic  vein.  Garrick,  on  the  other 
hand,  wrought  his  hearers  to  tears  or  smiles,  as  he  chose 
to  wield  his  power. 

Theatre  Prices. 

It  is  a  curious  feature  in  the  dramatic  record  that  an  in- 
different line  in  Shakespeare  gives  us  the  price  of  admit- 
tance in  his  day.  The  princi|)al  play-house  in  London  at 
that  time  was  the  Black  Friars  theatre,  where  Shakes- 
peare was  highly  popular,  and  where  some  of  his  best 
plays  were  iirst  brought  out.  The  price  of  admittance  is 
found  in  the  prologue  to  King  Henry  VIII,  which  reads 
as  follows : 

I  come  no  more  to  make  you  laugh  —  things  now 

That  bear  a  mighty  and  a  serious  brow 

We  now  present.     Those  that  can  pity,  here 

May,  if  they  think  it  "well  let  fall  a  tear. 

The  subject  will  deserve  it; 

Those  tliat  come  to  see 

Only  a  show  or  two,  and  so  agree 

The  play  may  ])ass;  if  they  be  still  and  willing 

I'll  undertake  may  see  away  their  shilling 

Kiclily  in  two  short  hours. 

A  shilling  in  those  days  was  worth  as  much  as  a  dollar  of 
our  present  currency,  and  hence  it  may  be  considered  that 
the  prices  have  not  really  advanced.  A  century  and  a  half 
later  Garrick  had  made  the  drama  so  popular  with  the 
crowds  of  London  that  it  was  one  of  the  great  features  of 
the  day.  The  same  rate  was  continued,  for  the  masses  at 
least,  but  the  distinction  between  pit  and  boxes  was  in- 
troduced. In  Shakespeare's  time  this  did  not  exist,  but 
Garrick  found  it  necessary.     This  explains  the  words  of 


374  Our  Book. 

Johnson  who,  as  Boswell  sajs,  spoke  of  Garrick  as  "a 
fellow  that  shows  himself  for  a  shilling."  The  London 
managers  tried  to  raise  prices,  but  a  riot  occurred  and 
it  was  a  long  time  before  they  succeeded. 

Players'  Sufferings. 

The  efforts  exerted  by  players  to  maintain  their  roles 
are  often  of  a  very  exhaustive  nature.  No  allowance  is 
made  by  an  audience  for  illness,  and  the  plaj'er  is  some- 
times brought  from  a  sick  bed,  and  is  plied  with  strong 
drink  in  order  to  carry  him  through.  Hence  the  scene, 
which  may  delight  an  audience,  may  be  to  the  player  only 
agony.  Sometimes  he  even  comes  from  some  death-bed 
under  his  own  roof  in  order  to  play  in  comedy  or  farce. 
The  countenance,  though  devoured  by  watching  and 
anxiety,  is  lit  up  by  paint  and  gaslight,  and  the  shadow 
of  sorrow  is  driven  away  by  the  necessity  of  the  occasion. 
Ballet  girls  often  faint  under  the  severe  service  and  foul 
air  of  the  stage,  and  are  kept  up  by  liberal  potations  of 
strong  drink.  The  inside  of  the  theatrical  life  is,  indeed, 
a  strange  contrast  with  the  glare  and  splendor  of  its 
garish  display. 

Anna  Cora  Mowatt,  when  describing  her  efforts  while 
ill,  and  the  agony  and  failure  which  follows,  says: 

I  have  seen  many  an  actor  play  with  thrilling  effect,  and  the 
instant  he  left  tlie  stage  sink,  unable  to  speak  from  acute  suffer- 
ing. I  have  often  seen  actors  after  fits  of  swooning,  forced  to 
return  and  continue  their  performance.  I  remember  an  actor  that 
drew  down  the  displeasure  of  an  audience  by  the  feeble  delivery 
of  his  role.  How  little  they  imagined  that  he  was  even  then 
dying.     Tliree  days  afterward  he  was  a  corpse. 

One  of  the  severest  trials  to  which  the  profession  is  lia- 
ble is  keen  and  often  unjust  criticism.  An  actress,  after 
playing  till  midnight,  may  lie  awake  till  morning  in 
anxiety  to  see  how  much  of  her  reputation  will  be  left 


AcTOKs'  Sufferings.  375 

her  when  the  papers  appear.  Pope  says  ''  tliere's  noth- 
ing blackens  like  the  ink  of  fools,''  to  which  many  a 
player  can  assent  from  personal  experience.  Next  to 
the  dangers  of  the  press  are  those  arising  from  personal 
jealousy  and  domestic  quarrels,  which  so  commonly 
infest  the  stage. 

Nervous  Irritability. 

This  is  one  of  the  sufferings  endured  by  public  speak- 
ers, and  actors  have  to  endure  it  to  a  degree  far  beyond 
all  others.  How  many  of  those  quarrels,  which  occur  in 
the  profession,  are  due  to  this  cause?  Other  difficulties 
may  be  explained  in  a  similar  manner.  Forrest,  for  in- 
stance, while  in  an  irritable  frame,  assaulted  N.  P.  Willis, 
for  which  he  paid  damages  to  the  amount  of  $2,500  and 
costs. 

Macready  suffered  all  his  life  from  nervous  irritability, 
which,  at  last,  became  a  leading  characteristic.  The  re- 
sult was  that  he  also  appeared  in  an  assault  and  battery 
case  in  London,  which  he  thus  describes  in  his  journal : 

Rose  with  uneasy  thoughts,  and  in  a  disturbed  state  of  mind, 
laboring  under  the  alternate  sensations  of  exasperation  and  de- 
pression. Ou  reacliing  my  office,  I  wrote  a  letter  on  the  subject 
of  Bunn's  debt,  but  thinking  it  was  tinctured  with  revenge.  I 
threw  it  into  tlie  fire.  My  spirits  were  so  much  depressed  that  I 
lay  down  to  compose  myself,  and  tliought  over  my  role  as  well  as 
I  could.  Went  to  the  theatre ;  was  techy  and  unhappy,  but 
pushed  through  the  performance  in  a  sort  of  a  desperate  manner. 

As  I  came  off  tiie  stage,  passing  Buan  I  could  not  contain  my- 
self, and  exclaimed:  ''  You  scoundrel!  How  dare  you  use  me  in 
such  a  manner!"  I  struck  him  across  the  face,  and  dug  my  fist 
into  him  as  effectively  as  I  could.  As  I  read  these  lines  I  am  an- 
noyed at  my  intemperate  and  unfortunate  rashness.  My  passions 
mastered  me,  and  no  enemy  can  censure  me  more  harshly  than  I 
do  myself,  and  I  felt  ashamed  to  appear  on  the  street, 

Bunn  sued  the  unlucky  tragedian,  who  made  no  defense, 
and  the  damages  were  assessed  at  £150 — equal  to  $750, 
to  which  were  added  costs.  When  one  considers  the 
nervous  exhaustion  inseparable  from  such  a  profession, 


376  Our  Book. 

one  need  not  be  surprised  at  the  irritability  of  dramatic 
performers. 

Former  dramatic  Salaries. 
Mr.  and  Mrs.  Hallam,  who  were  prominent  performers 
in  the  early  part  of  the  present  century  received  each  $25 
per  night.  Mrs.  Oldmixon,  who  was  famous  in  her  day, 
had  $37 ;  Cooper,  who  held  respectable  rank  in  tragedy, 
received  $25.  The  entire  bill  for  performers  at  the  Park 
theatre  then  amounted  to  $480  per  week,  and  other 
expenditures  swelled  the  amount  to  $1,650.  Such  was 
the  cost  at  that  time  of  running  the  most  expensive  thea- 
tre in  America.  Cooper,  whose  name  is  mentioned  above, 
was  at  one  time  manager  of  the  Park.  He  married  Miss 
Mary  Fairlie,  the  Sophie  Sparkle  of  Sahnagundi,  and 
one  of  the  most  charming  ladies  of  that  day.  As  a  man- 
ager he  was  decidedly  unsuccessful,  but  he  holds  a  place 
in  the  history  of  the  drama  as  the  first  to  present  high 
tragedy  on  the  American  stage. 

Sheridan  Knowles. 

Knowles,  like  many  other  men  of  genius,  went  through 
a  life  of  poverty.  At  one  time  he  taught  elocution  in 
Glasgow  and  other  cities,  but  later  on  he  received  a  pen- 
sion, and  this  enabled  him  to  gratify  his  inclination  for 
the  pulpit.  He  became  a  Baptist  preacher  at  the  age  of 
sixty-one,  and  remained  in  the  service  until  his  death, 
seventeen  years  afterward.  He  is  said  to  have  been  the 
oldest  man  ordained  to  the  ministry  since  the  days  of  the 
apostolic  church.  His  sermons  are  forgotten,  but  his 
plays  will  live  as  long  as  the  drama  itself,  and  the  Hunch- 
back and  Yirginius  are  sufficient  to  ensure  fame. 

Knowles  was  thirty-eight  when  Yirginius  was  first  pro- 
duced. He  was  then  teaching  elocution,  and  had  been 
struggling  amid  poverty  for  many  years.     He  loved  liis 


Shekidan  Knowles.  377 

home,  and  in  the  midst  of  his  troubles  would  say  to  his 
wife  as  he  pointed  to  his  children,  "  Maria,  are  we  not  rich 
in  these?"  Hence  the  success  of  Virginius  was  a  grand 
domestic  event,  and  his  wife  then  exclaimed,  "  Oh  James, 
we  shall  not  want  friends  now ! " 

The  play  was  offered  to  Manager  Harris  of  Covent 
Garden,  who  requested  Macready  to  read  it.  The  latter 
says  that  having  undergone  the  perusal  of  several  trage- 
dies he  disliked  the  task,  but  determined  to  make  the  best 
of  it  in  a  professional  manner.     He  adds : 

The  freshness  and  simplicity  of  the  dialogue  fixed  my  attention. 
I  read  on  and  on,  and  was  soon  absorbed  in  the  passion  of  its 
scenes,  till  at  its  close  I  found  myself  in  such  a  state  of  excitement 
that  for  a  time  I  did  not  know  what  step  to  take.  Impulse  was 
on  the  ascendant,  and  snatching  up  my  pen  I  hurriedly  wrote,  as 
my  agitated  feelings  prompted,  a  letter  to  the  author  —  a  perfect 
stranger,  Knowles  replied  in  a  tone  of  gratitude  and  delight, 
and  the  tragedy  was  immediately  announced. 

Before  the  lapse  of  a  month  the  first  performance  took 
place  —  May  17,  1820 — with  Charles  Kemble  as  Icilius, 
while  Mrs.  Foote,  afterward  Couutess  of  Harrington,  took 
Virginia. 

Macready,  who  though  only  twenty-eight,  had  won  high 

rank,  was  of  course  Virginius.     He  says  in  his  memoirs : 

The  interest  grew  as  the  play  advanced,  and  in  the  third  act  in 
Icilius's  great  scene,  Kemble  brought  down  thunders  of  applause. 
The  rapt  attention  of  the  audience  soon  kindled  into  enthusiasm. 
Long  continued  cheers  followed  the  close  of  each  succeeding  act. 
Half  stifled  screams  and  involuntary  ejaculations  burst  forth  as 
the  fatal  blow  was  struck,  and  the  curtain  fell  amid  deafening 
applause.  The  play  was  a  triumph  which  Knowles,  being  pres- 
ent, witnessed  and  enjoyed. 

Macready  adds  that  "  so  long  as  there  is  a  stage  and  actors 

capable  of  representing  the  best  feelings  of  our  nature, 

the  pathos,  the  poetry  and  the  passion  of  Virginius  will 

command  the  tears  and  applause  of  its  audience." 

VlKQINIUS  MAKRIES  VIRGINIA. 

Macready  played  Virginius  the  same  season  at  Dublin 
48  . 


378  Our  Book. 

with  grand  success,  and  then  made  a  professional  tour 
through  Scotland.  At  Aberdeen  he  found  a  Virginia  of 
fifteen,  of  charming  form  and  countenance.     He  says : 

She  might  have  really  been  Virginia.  There  was  a  native  grace 
in  every  movement  and  never  were  sensibility  and  innocence  more 
sweetly  personified  tlian  in  her  mild  look  and  eyes,  streaming  with 
unbidden  tears.  I  soon  learned  her  little  history.  She  was  the 
support  of  her  family.  She  showed  an  aptness  for  improvement 
which  increased  the  partiality  she  had  awakened.  I  could  have 
wished  that  one  so  purely  minded  and  so  gifted  had  been  placed 
in  some  other  walk  in  life  —  but  all  that  might  be  in  my  power 
for  her  advancement  I  resolved  to  do.  We  parted  at  Perth,  but 
her  image  accompanied  me  on  my  journey  and  indeed  never  after 
left  me. 

This  girl  was  the  popular  Miss  Atkins.  JVTacready  met 
her  the  next  year  at  Bristol,  and  says  that  he  then  noticed 
her  rare  talent,  and  the  advice  he  then  gave  her  led  to  a 
correspondence  of  an  educational  character.  He  then  adds 
that  "love  approached  us  under  friendship's  name,  al- 
though unsuspected  and  unconfessed  by  either  of  us." 
Four  yeai's  after  their  first  acquaintance  the  marriage  took 
place.  It  was  one  of  much  happiness,  and  Macready  adds 
that  it  realized  to  him  all  that  the  most  sanguine  heart 
could  have  pictured. 

YiRGTNius  IN  America. 

Two  years  after  his  marriage  Macready  was  engaged 
by  Price  at  the  Park  theatre,  where  he  made  his  debut  as 
Virgiuins,  with  great  success.  His  fee  was  $250  per 
night,  and  his  American  tour  was  one  of  great  pleasure 
and  profit.  Ever  since  the  introduction  of  this  play  in 
1826,  it  has  been  a  favorite  with  theatrical  stars,  but  it  re- 
quires such  a  display  of  the  emotional  character  that  few 
can  do  it  justice.  Forrest  never  succeeded  in  it,  since  he 
lacked  emotional  power. 

It  is  an  interesting  fact  that  Macready  and  Forrest  both 
appeared  at  the  Park  the  same  season  (1826),  and  it  is 


♦  Macready.  379 

probable  that  even  at  that  early  day  the  jealousy  of  the 
latter  was  awakened.  It  continued  to  increase  until  it 
culminated  in  the  Astor  place  riot,  where  Macready's  per- 
formance was  broken  up  and  more  than  twenty  persons 
were  slain  to  gratify  the  base  passions  of  one  man  on 
whom  rests  more  bloodshed  than  on  any  other  member  of 
the  drama. 

Farewell  to  Yirginius. 
In  1851  Macready  played  his  favorite  role  for  the  last 
time.     He  was  then  fifty-eight  and  felt  that  it  was  time 
to  retire  while  he  could  do  so  in  a  reputable  manner. 
This  took  place  in  London,  and  he  says  in  his  diary : 

Acted  Virginius  for  the  last  time,  as  I  have  never  acted  it  be- 
fore, with  discrimination,  energy  and  pathos,  exceeding  any  former 
effort.  The  audience  was  greatly  excited.  I  was  deeply  impressed 
by  the  reflection  that  I  should  never  again  appear  in  this  character, 
wliich  has  seemed  one  of  those  exclusively  my  own,  and  which 
has  been  unvarjdngly  powerful  in  its  effect  upon  my  audience  — 
ever  since  the  first  night  in  1820,  wlien  I  carried  tliem  by  storm; 
that  now  I  have  done  with  it,  and  done  with  it.  I  was  very  much 
affected  during  the  evening,  very  much,  with  a  feeling  of  sorrow 
at  parting  with  an  old  friend.  The  thought,  the  deep  emotion, 
the  scenes  grouped  in  this  drama  now  only  live  in  memory.  Sad 
it  is  for  the  player  when  he  stands  up  before  all  men  and  says,  I 
have  done. 

Macready's  last  words  in  reference  to  closing  his  dra- 
matic career  were  so  touching  that  they  deserve  a  place  in 
this  connection : 

My  professional  life  may  be  said  to  be  ended.  That  life  was 
begun  in  a  mediocre  position,  but  I  have  attained  the  loftiest 
rank,  having  gained  the  respect  and  friendship  of  the  amiable  and 
distinguished.  I  have  what  I  trust  will  prove  a  competency.  My 
home  is  one  of  comfort  and  of  love,  and  most  gratefully  and 
earnestly  do  I  bless  the  name  of  Almighty  God,  who  has  granted 
such  indulgence  to  me  —  sinner  as  I  am. 

Play  WRrrmG. 
Few  are  aware  of  the  difficulty  in  writing  a  good  play 
or  the  quantity  of  trash  with  which  managers  are  flooded. 
A.  professional  stage  reader  has  a  hard  task  but  he  must 


380  OuK  Book. 

endure  it  patiently.  Often  he  is  astonished  at  the  stupidity 
of  authors  while  sometimes  he  is  amused  by  their  ab- 
surdity. During  the  past  year  one  reader  in  New  York 
has  examined  150  plays,  out  of  which  only  five  were 
accepted.  As  there  are  more  than  twenty  theatres  in  the 
city,  and  all  have  a  full  supply  of  such  offerings,  one  may 
form  an  idea  of  the  efforts  made  in  dramatic  literature. 
A  well  known  theatrical  leader  says  that  American  play- 
writers  generally  select  some  foreign  scene, —  chiefly  Eng- 
land —  simply  because  "  distance  lends  enchantment  to  the 
view."  When  they  take  American  scenes  tliey  generally 
go  west  where  there  is  more  adventure. 

Actors  rarely  can  write  a  good  play.  Their  lives  are 
rather  reflections  of  the  thought  of  others  and  hence  they 
are  deficient  in  originality.  PI  ay- writing  requires  a  de- 
gree of  tact  which  few  men  of  genius  possess.  Walter 
Scott,  for  instance,  wrote  admirable  novels,  but  could  not 
produce  a  play,  while  Shakespeare,  who  never  wrote  a 
novel,  seemed  born  for  a  dramatist.  Some  of  Scott's 
novels  were  dramatised,  but  this  was  not  done  by  himself. 
It  required  an  entirely  different  intellectual  power. 

Johnson  wrote  a  tragedy  which  Garrick  brought  out  in 
the  best  possible  style,  and  yet  it  was  a  failure.  On  the 
other  hand  poor  Goldsmith,  who  was  no  genius  but  only 
a  wit  and  a  clever  writer,  gave  the  world  several  comedies 
which  will  live  as  long  as  the  British  stage  endures. 
Coleridge,  Byron  and  Charles  Lamb  wrote  tragedies  which 
proved  failures,  while  Sheridan  Knowles,  who  was  vastly 
inferior  to  the  first  two,  was  the  author  of  Virginius. 

FmsT  Amekican  Plat. 

!N"ow  that  play-writing  has  become  so  extensive  a  feature 
in  our  literature  it  may  be  a  matter  of  interest  to  recall 
its  inception.     The  first  play  written  and  produced  in 


Royal  Tylek's  Play.  381 

America  was  the  Contrast,  by  Koval  Tyler,  and  brought 
out  at  the  old  Jolin  Street  theatre  by  managers  Ilallam 
and  Henry.  Royal  Tyler  was  a  witty  and  well-educated 
lawyer  who  had  reached  his  thirtieth  year  before  thus 
making  his  debut  as  a  playwright.  The  plan  of  the 
Contrast  (for  it  has  no  plot)  is  certainly  both  original 
and  amusing.  A  country  fellow  visits  the  mctropohs, 
and  while  gazing  at  the  sights  is  attracted  by  the  theatre, 
but  does  not  understand  the  nature  of  the  performance. 
He  sujjposed  it  to  be  a  legerdemain  exhibition  and  ex- 
pects to  see  a  conjurer  swallow,  an  Qg^  and  then  pull  rib- 
bons out  of  his  sleeve,  with  similar  feats. 

Next  day,  on  being  a^ked  what  he  saw  at  the  theatre, 
he  replied  :  "  Why,  I  vow,  while  I  was  looking  for  the 
man  with  the  tricks  they  lifted  up  a  big  green  cloth  and 
let  me  see  right  into  the  neighbor's  house."  "  How  did 
you  like  the  family  ?  "  was  the  next  inquiry.  "  Why,  I 
vow,"  was  the  reply,  "  they  were  pretty  much  like  other 
families :  there  was  a  poor,  good-natured  husband  and  a 
regular  rantipole  of  a  wife,  aiid  when  they  got  done  I 
asked  for  my  money  back  —  for  that's  no  show,  but  only 
hearing  folks'  private  family  business  gabbled  about." 
The  object  of  the  Contrast  is  to  display  in  a  laugh- 
able manner  the  blunders  of  the  sti^auger,  and  also  his 
Yankee  dialect.  This  was  afterward  done  more  admi- 
rably by  Yankee  Hill,  and  it  has  always  been  a  popular 
entertainment  for  tlie  masses. 

The  Contrast  took  well  and  had  an  encouraging 
run,  which  led  its  author  to  write  another  drama,  in  which 
he  turned  the  laugh  on  tiie  city  folks.  He  had  observed 
the  great  amount  of  spring  moving,  which  he  "showed 
up"  in  a  very  humorous  manner  in  May  Day  ;  or,  New 
York  in  an  Uproar.  This  play  was  also  very  popular, 
and  Wignell,  who  appeared  in  both,  found  it  a  gratifying 


382  Our  Book. 

harvest.  The  author  gave  liim  the  copyright,  and  the 
Contrast  was  published  and  had  a  remunerative  sale, 
but  copies  are  now  so  rare  as  to  be  among  the  curiosities 
of  the  drama. 

Tyler  soon  left  New  York  and  went  to  the  interior  of 
New  England  where  he  became  a  contributor  to  various 
papers  pubhshed  both  in  Boston  and  in  the  country.  He 
formed  the  imaginary  firm  of  Colon  &  Spondee,  and  ad- 
vertised "literary  goods,  including  orations  on  the  shortest 
notice,  dead  languages  for  living  drones,  anagrams  and 
acrostics,  also  puns  and  conundrums  by  the  dozen,  love 
letters  by  the  ream,  sermons  for  texts  and  texts  foi  ser- 
mons, old  orations  scoured  and  blunt  epigrams  new 
pointed,  serenades  for  nocturnal  lovers  and  black  jokes  of 
all  kinds.  Newspaper  editors  supplied  with  accidents, 
bloody  murders,  ])remature  news,  thunder  and  lightning 
with  hailstones  of  all  sizes,  adapted  to  the  season.  Also, 
serious  cautions  against  drunkenness  and  other  coarse 
wrapping  paper  gratis  to  all  who  buy  the  smallest  article. 
N.  B.  —  On  hand,  a  few  tierces  of  Attic  salt ;  also,  high- 
est price  paid  in  cash  for  kaw  wit,  or  taken  in  exchange 
for  the  above  articles." 

It  is  very  evident  that  Royal  Tyler  was  the  cleverest 
humorist  of  that  day,  but  he  was  also  one  of  its  best  law- 
yers, and  in  his  forty-fourth  year  the  legislature  of  Ver- 
mont elected  him  chief  justice  of  the  State.  While 
holding  this  office  he  published  nine  volumes  of  reports 
and  gave  other  proof  of  eminent  professional  ability. 
Judge  Tyler  died  at  Brattleboro  in  his  seventieth  year. 

Stage  Solecisms. 
Many  who  write  for  the   stage   show  the  most   ab- 
surd omission  of  common  sense.     An  experienced  play 
examiner  says  that  recently  "  a  play  was  offered  him  which 


Play  Wkiteks'  Blunders.  383 

opened  with  an  embarkation  scene,  and  the  ship  sails  to 
the  Arctic  regions  where  it  is  wrecked  by  an  iceberg. 
The  hero  cuts  down  a  spar  to  which  he  attaches  himself 
after  jumping  overboard. 

"In  the  third  act  he  is  discovered  standing  on  an  ice- 
berg while  in  the  distance  a  battle  is  progressing  between 
a  Chinese  junk  and  a  pirate  ship.  The  hero  is  recovered 
from  the  iceberg  and  then  turns  up  in  a  tropical  countiy 
where  his  feet  suffer  from  having  been  frost  bitten.  The 
closing  act  brings  him  back  to  America  where  the  usual 
happy  denouement  takes  place." 

This  may  seem  strange  to  the  reader,  and  yet  such 

absurdity  is  nothing  new.     In  1815  when  Byron  was  a 

member  of  the  Drury  Lane  committee,  he  wrote  thus  to 

Tom  Moore : 

There  is  a  play  before  me  whose  hero  is  an  Irish  king,  while 
the  villain  of  the  piece  is  a  Danish  invader  named  Turgcsius. 
The  latter  is  ciiained  by  the  leg  to  a  pillar  on  the  stage,  while  the 
king  makes  him  a  speech  about  the  balance  of  power.  This 
throws  Turgesius  into  a  frenzy.  He  draws  a  dagger  and  rushes 
at  the  orator,  but  finding  himself  at  the  end  of  his  tether  he 
sticks  it  into  himself  and  dies.  Now  it  is  serious,  downright  fact 
that  this  tragedy  was  not  intended  for  burlesque,  and  the  writer 
really  hopes  it  will  be  accepted. 

Our  most  clever  amateurs  are  often  unable  to  write  for 
the  stage,  as  was  illustrated  by  Oakey  Hall's  failure  in 
the  Crucible.  Ilall  studied  the  drama  for  years,  and 
was  confident  of  success,  and  yet  what  a  failure  he  made. 
He  could  hardly  believe  that  the  Crucible  would  not 
take,  and  it  was  not  until  it  failed  night  after  night,  and 
his  partner's  patience  was  worn  out,  that  the  ambitious 
but  unsuccessful  amateur  acknowledged  his  defeat. 

Young  Roscius. 
New   York   and   London    each   have   had  a  "Young 
Roscius,"  and  what  is  more  remarkable,  they  were  almost 
contemporary.     John  Howard  Payne  was  born  in  1792^ 


3S4  OuK  Book. 

and  William  Henry  Betty  was  then  bat  a  year  old.  The 
latter,  however,  appeared  on  the  stage  at  twelve,  while 
Payne's  debut  was  at  sixteen. 

Both  exhibited  wonderful  histrionic  powers  in  youth, 
which  they  lost  soon  after  reaching  manhood,  and  both 
lived  to  see  the  time  when  the  memory  of  their  success 
only  seemed  like  a  splendid  dream.  Payne  at  thirteen 
started  the  Thespian  Mirror,  and  Betty  when  a  year 
younger  appeared  on  the  boards  of  the  Belfast  theatre, 
and  made  a  great  sensation.  IJis  parents  were  English, 
but  removed  to  Belfast,  where  Mrs.  Siddons,  while  mak- 
ing a  professional  tour,  played  a  short  engagement. 

The  boy  was  taken  to  the  theatre  and  was  stage-struck 
by  the  performance.  lie  began  spouting  Shakespeare, 
and  his  parents  brought  him  to  the  manager,  who  after 
hearing  his  recitation,  placed  him  under  instructions.  In 
a  few  months  the  young  prodigy  appeared  before  a  Bel- 
fast audience  with  such  success  that  his  parents  took  him 
to  other  towns,  where  he  increased  in  fame,  and  after 
charming  the  capital  of  Scotland  they  were  encouraged 
to  try  his  genius  in  the  capital  of  the  nation. 

At  the  age  of  thirteen  he  played  at  Covent  Garden 
for  £50  per  night  (equal  to  $250),  one-third  more  than 
John  Philip  Ivemble  had  ever  received.  He  drew  im- 
mense houses,  and  his  Hamlet  awoke  enthusiastic  admiri- 
tion.  Fox,  the  statesman,  said  he  excelled  Garrick.  His 
portrait  was  seen  everywhere,  and  his  popularity  so 
increased  that  during  a  run  of  fifty-six  nights  he  drew 
into  the  manager's  treasury  £34,000  —  equal  to  $170,000. 
Reader  when  you  recall  the  fact  that  this  was  done  by  a 
boy  of  thirteen,  you  will  certainly  join  in  the  universal 
astonishment. 

By  the  time  the  "  Young  Koscius "  reached  twentj^- 
one  his  popularity  was  gone.     The  elegant  youth  had 


John  IIowakd  Payne.  385 

become  a  stout  mati  of  very  clever  parts,  but  the  cliarin 
had  fled,  and  the  pubb"c  wondered  liow  he  had  ever 
conquered  the  most  critical  play-goers  of  London.  Betty 
had  sense  enough  to  retire  and  never  reappeared. 

In  a  similar  manner  John  Howard  Payne  —  though  at  a 
later  age  —  lost  his  histrionic  power  and  sank  into  a  mere 
])laywriglit.  Betty  was  the  most  fortunate  of  the  two 
in  financial  success,  as  he  had  accumulated  a  competence, 
while  Payne  was  always  the  victim  of  poverty.  As 
soon  as  Betty  withdrew  the  j^nblic  welcomed  their  old 
favorites,  whose  popularity  became  more  permanent  than 
ever. 

John  Howard  Payne. 

John  Howard  Payne,  author  of  Home,  Sweet  Home, 
who  awoke  admiration  as  the  boy  performer  of  the  Park 
theatre,  was  born  in  New  York,  where  bis  father  was  a 
reputable  school  teacher.  In  early  life  he  was  placed  in 
a  store,  but  his  love  of  the  drama  led  him,  while  only 
thirteen,  to  issue  the  Thespian  Mirror.  This  brought 
him  to  the  acquaintance  of  William  Coleman,  editor  of 
the  Evening  Post,  wl^o  was  astonished  to  see  a  boy  con- 
ducting such  a  paper. 

In  his  sixteenth  year  the  youth  appeared  on  the  Park 
boards  as  Nerval  with  great  success,  and  afterward  played 
Edgar  to  George  Frederick  Cooke's  Lear.  Cooke  urged 
him  to  try  his  fortunes  on  the  London  stage.  Acting  on 
this  suggestion  he  sailed  for  Liverpool,  but  on  his  arrival 
Avas  arrested,  for  the  war  of  1812  had  just  opened.  This 
was  only  the  beginning  of  Payne's  troubles  while  abroad. 
He  made  a  e-reat  sensation  on  the  London  stao'e,  beinj; 
the  first  American  to  appear  before  a  British  audience. 

Tlience  he  went  to  Paris  to  see  Talma,  and  was  em- 
ployed by  a  London  manager  to  examine  all  new  French 
dramas,  and  adapt  them,  if  possible,  for  the  British  stage. 
49 


386  Our  Book. 


Payne  met  a  series  of  vicissitudes,  and  both  poverty  and 
success  alternately  awaited  him.  When  only  twentv- 
eight  he  wrote  his  tragedy  Brutus,  in  which  Kean  made 
a  great  sensation  at  Drury  Lane,  but  at  this  very  time  its 
author  was  suffering  extreme  poverty  in  Paris. 


JOHN   HOWARD   PAYNE. 


Home,  Sweet  Home. 

Some  time  afterward  Charles  Kemble  became  manager 
of  Covent  Garden,  and,  like  others,  sought  the  produc- 
tions of  Payne.  The  latter,  who  was  extremely  poor, 
offered  the  manager  an  opera  called  Clari,  the  price  be- 
ing the  trifling  sum  of  £30.  Kemble  accepted  it,  and  in 
a  few  weeks  it  was  the  admiration  of  London.  Ellen 
Tree  made  her  first  great  success  in  this  play,  which  con- 
tained Home,  Sweet  Home,  the  most  popular  of  all  Ameri- 
can songs.  One  hundred  thousand  copies  were  soon  sold, 
and  the  publisher's  profits  were  estimated  at  $10,000,  but 
Payne  never  received  any  tning  beyond  the  original  price. 

No  doubt  this  pathetic  utterance  of  home  feelings  was 
due  to  his  lonely  and  impoverished  life  in  Paris,  and  in 


Dkamatio  Literature.  387 

the  remeiubrauce  of  early  associations  and  of  a  doiDestic 
circle  lie  could  say  with  heartfelt  emotion : 

'Mid  pleasures  and  palaces  though  we  may  roam, 
Still  be  it  so  humble  there's  no  place  like  iiome. 
An  exile  from  home  pleasure  dazzles  in  vain; 
Ah  give  me  ray  lowly  thatched  cottage  again. 
Home,  sweet  home,  there's  no  place  like  home. 

While  in  Paris  Payne  met  Irvine^,  who  was  also  strug- 
gling with  many  difficulties,  and  they  took  rooms  together, 
becoming  fellow-workers  in  dramatic  literature.  Irving 
said  that  Pa}  ne  was  always  in  difficulties,  owing  to  the 
unprofitable  nature  of  such  emploj'mcnt.  After  nine- 
teen years  of  foreign  life,  during  which  he  had  endured 
many  bitter  experiences,  Payne  returned  to  New  York. 

When  he  left  America  his  intention  M'as  to  only  remain 
abroad  a  year,  and  during  this  protracted  absence  such 
changes  had  been  wrought  that  he  felt  alone  even  in  his 
native  land.  The  contrast  was  painful,  and  after  making 
a  literary  effort  which  failed,  he  was  desirous  to  again  seek 
distant  scenes.  Hence  the  consulate  to  Tunis  was  an  ac- 
ceptable appointment,  and  he  died  while  holding  this 
office.  His  remains  were  afterward  brought  home  and 
buried  in  Washington. 

Dramatic  Literature. 

The  greatest  of  all  dramatic  writers  was  the  worst  paid, 
for  he  not  only  wrote  without  compensation,  but  never 
saw  his  works  in  a  complete  volume.  A  half  dozen  plays, 
in  addition  to  his  sonnets,  were  all  that  went  through  the 
press  during  his  life,  and  it  was  only  the  liberality  of  the 
Earl  of  Southampton  that  enabled  the  great  dramatist  to 
retire  to  his  native  town  in  a  respectable  manner. 

Those  who  ])ursued  dramatic  literature  during  the  next 
century  were  by  no  means  so  fortunate.  Wycherly  nar- 
rowly escaped  the  Fleet  prison,  while  Otway  starved  in  a 


388  Our  Book. 

garret  till  relieved  by  death.  Addison's  Cato  had  a  tran- 
sient degree  of  popularity,  owing  to  the  fact  that  its 
author  had  political  influence  and  the  play  was  supposed 
to  represent  the  ruling  party  of  tliat  day. 

The  first  handsome  fee  received  by  any  playwright  was 
the  £500  paid  to  Goldsmith  for  his  comedy  of  The  Good 
Natured  Man.  This  was  eight  times  more  than  the  price 
of  the  Vicar  of  Wakefield,  and  no  dramatist  was  equally 
well  paid  till  the  days  of  Byron.  The  tragedies  of  the 
latter  brought  a  high  price  as  literary  works,  but  they 
were  not  written  for  tlie  stage,  and  their  author  was  an- 
noyed when  they  were  produced  before  a  London  audi- 
ence. For  these  dramas,  four  in  number,  Byron  received 
£2,500.  Had  he  never  written  any  thing  else  they  would 
now  be  forgotten.  Few,  indeed,  care  to  read  them,  and 
though  Sardanapalus  was  made  effective  a  few  years  ago 
before  a  New  York  audience,  it  was  solely  due  to  its  author 
whose  name  always  awakens  interest. 

Resurrection  of  the  Devil. 

In  accordance  with  the  proverb  that  there  "  is  nothing 
new  in  the  world,"  it  is  to  be  remembered  that  Burton's 
popular  play  of  the  Serious  Family  was  but  a  repro- 
duction of  the  Minor  which  was  brought  out  by  Foote,  the 
London  dramatist,  in  17C0,  for  the  especial  purpose  of 
ridiculing  Whitefield.  The  epilogue  to  this  play  is  a  joke 
on  the  doctrine  of  Divine  Providence,  and  it  closes  with 
what  is  meant  to  be  a  playful  hit  at  the  audience : 

ITow  d'ye  spend  your  days  ? 

In  pastimes,  prodigality,  and  plays! 

Let's  go  see  Foote.     Oh  Foote's  a  precious  limb. 

Old  Nick  will  soon  a  foot-ball  make  of  him 

For  foremost  boxes  in  the  play  you  shove; 

Think  you  in  boxes  thus  to  sit  above  ? 

No  you  will  all  be  crammed  into  the  pit 

And  crowd  the  house  for  Satan's  benefit. 


Passing  Scenes.  389 

Shockingly  wicked,  and  disgusting  in  levity  as  these  lines 
may  sound,  they  do  no  more  than  in  reality  express  the 
spirit  that  animated  a  play  which  had  a  long  run  in  New 
York.  This  shows  that  in  a  large  community  the  drama 
will  prosper  Mith  much  success,  when  the  best  features  in 
society  are  subjected  to  buffoonery. 

Passing  Scenes. 

Booth's  theatre  was  built  for  the  purpose  of  exhibiting 
the  best  of  Shakespeare's  dramas,  and  this  was  done  with 
all  the  enthusiasm  and  genius  of  the  great  tragedian.  But 
notwithstanding  the  expense  and  also  the  talent  brought 
into  exercise,  the  scheme  was  a  failure,  and  the  theatre 
was  during  its  last  decade  occupied  by  second-rate  melo- 
drama, and  then  it  was  demolished. 

This  fate  has  followed  all  attempts  to  restore  the  drama 
to  classic  dignity,  and  is  thus  referred  to  in  one  of  Gar- 
rick's  epilogues : 

Sacred  to  Shakespeare  was  the  spot  designed 
To  pierce  the  heart  and  humanize  the  mind. 
But  if  an  empty  house  (the  actor's  curse) 
Show  us  our  Lears  and  Hamlets  losing  force, 
Unwilling  we  must  change  the  noble  scene  ; 
And  in  our  turn  present  you  Harlequin. 
If  want  comes  on,  importance  must  retreat; 
Our  first  great  ruling  passion  is  —  to  eat. 

The  incessant  change  in  theatrical  taste  is  proof  of  the 
transitory  nature  of  earthly  scenes.  Most  of  those  plays 
which  entertained  a  London  audience  in  the  days  of  Gar- 
rick  are  now  forgotten.  The  Minor  was  revived  by  Bur- 
ton in  the  Serious  Family,  and  Shakesperian  dramas  live 
by  the  power  of  inherent  genius,  but  who  now  hears  of 
Tlie  Inconsistant,  The  Twin  Rivals,  The  Lying  Yalet, 
The  Apprentice,  The  Reprisal,  The  School  for  Lovers, 
The  Tailors,  etc.,  and  yet  these  were  the  popular  perform- 
ances which  displayed  the  talents  of  Foote,  Ned  Shuter, 


390  Our  Book. 

Mrs.  Clivc,  Peg   Woffington,  and    other    performers  of 
that  day  —  who  with  their  plays  have  gone  to  oblivion. 

The  same  oblivion  lias  swallowed  up  the  world  of  play- 
ers, whose  names  are  only  found  by  research.  Among 
these  were  female  stars,  such  as  Mrs,  Clive,  Mrs.  Pritch- 
ard,  Mrs.  Abingdon  and  Miss  Macklin  ;  while  the  leading 
males,  in  addition  to  Garrick,  were  Quinn,  Footc,  Weston, 
Palmer,  King,  Yates,  Shuter  and  others.  Foote  was  the 
impersonation  of  humor,  which  sometimes  degenerated 
into  ribaldry,  and  even  blasphemy. 

The  end  using  Master. 

The  wonderful  power  of  Shakespeare  is  shown  by  his 
surviving  all  these  changes.  However  fashion  may  rule 
the  drama,  it  cannot  affect  the  great  master  of  the  human 
heart.  It  is  also  a  point  of  notice  in  the  histrionic  pro- 
fession that  no  name  can  live  unless  identified  with  his 
productions.  It  is  as  Hamlet  that  Betterton  is  now  re- 
membered. Garrick  chiefly  lives  in  dramatic  history  as 
Lear.  John  Philip  Kemble  would  be  forgotten  were  it 
not  for  his  Hamlet.  Kean  the  elder  is  remembered  only 
as  the  greatest  Richard  the  Third,  and  thus  with  Cooke, 
Forrest  and  our  own  Booth  —  their  fame  is  identified 
with  the  genius  of  Shakespeare.  How  aptly  Johnson 
designated  him  as  one  "  not  for  a  day,  but  for  all  time." 
The  dramatic  crowd  may  exclaim,  like  the  Steward  in 

Lear: 

That  eyeless  head  of  thine  was  first  framed  flesh 
To  raise  my  fortunes. 

Lear  Forbidden. 

It  is  not  generally  known  that  one  of  Shakespeare's  best 
tragedies  (some  think  it  the  very  finest)  was  for  several 
years  debarred  from  the  London  stage.  Reference  is  made 
to   Lear,  during  the  latter  part  of  the  life  of  George 


Actors'  Retirement.  391 

Third.  The  British  king  was  then  hopelessly  deranged, 
and  it  was  not  considered  proper  to  keep  this  painful  fact 
before  the  public  by  a  theatrical  display  of  insanity.  As 
soon,  however,  as  the  unfortunate  king  was  removed  by 
death  Lear  was  reproduced  in  the  highest  style  of  dra- 
matic art,  and  was  highly  welcomed  after  a  prohibition  of 
nearly  twenty  years. 

Actors'  Retirement. 

Players  find  retirement  the  most  difficult  of  all  things. 
Hence,  often  after  a  farewell  has  been  taken,  they  return 
to  the  stage,  if  this  be  possible.  Miss  Cushman  was  sin- 
cere in  her  repeated  attempts  to  withdraw  from  profes- 
sional life,  but  in  each  case  it  became  impossible  until  disease 
and  approaching  death  placed  their  seal  on  her  profes- 
sional career.  Forrest  also  reappeared  several  times 
after  retirements  made  in  determined  purpose,  and  it  was 
not  until  old  age  and  rheumatism  disabled  him  that  his 
farewell  had  become  permanent,  reminding  one  of  the 
lines  which  Scott  applied  to  himself  in  his  old  age. 

The  man  in  tragedy  well  known, 
Though  his  best  part  long  since  was  done, 

Still  on  the  stage  desires  to  tarry  : 
And  he  who  played  the  harlequin, 
After  the  jest  still  haunts  the  scene. 

Unwilling  to  retire,  though  weary, 

Tom  Moore,  who  became  acquainted  with  Mrs.  Siddons 
in  her  latter  days,  said  that  she  suffered  great  distress 
from  the  ennui  which  followed  her  retirement  from  the 
stage.  The  worst  attacks  occurred  at  approach  of 
evening.  "When  sitting  alone  how  dreary  every  thing 
appeared  in  contrast  with  former  times  when  she  would 
be  dressing  for  the  stage.  There  was  all  the  expectation 
of  a  crowded  house  and  a  consciousness  of  her  power,  and 


392  Our  Book. 

even  sovereignty  over  both  niinJa  and  hearts.  But  all 
this  had  gone  forever!  One  day  when  Rogers  (the  poet) 
called  on  her  she  said  in  a  very  touching  manner,  "  Oh 
me !  this  is  about  the  time  I  had  to  prepare  for  the 
theatre.  What  pleasure  I  found  in  dressing  for  my  part, 
and  then  came  the  additional  pleasure  of  acting  it  —  but 
that  is  all  over  now." 

Ko  one  need  be  surprised  at  this  who  has  read  Cum- 
berland's sketch  of  Mrs.  Siddons  coming  off  the  stage  in 
the  full  flush  of  triumph  and  walking  up  to  the  mirror  in 
the  green  room  to  take  a  full  view  of  her  combined 
dignity  and  beauty. 

Garrick  evidently  had  a  similar  experience  to  which  he 
refers  in  the  prologue  which  he  spoke  on  retiring.  Hav- 
ing alluded  to  the  sale  of  his  costumes  and  his  consequent 
retirement  he  puts  the  question^to  himself  in  a  manner 
which  seems  really  painful : 

Will  he  in  rural  shades  find  ease  and  quiet? 

Oh  no ;  he'll  sigh  for  Drury  and  seek  peace  in  riot. 

Death  on  the  Stage. 

The  fact  that  McCullough  broke  down  on  the  stage  re- 
calls some  other  incidents  of  similar  character.  Kearly 
a  century  ago  John  Palmer,  who  had  won  a  reputa- 
tion in  some  of  his  roles,  fell  dead  while  playing  before 
a  Liverpool  audience.  Peg  Woffington,  while  playing 
Rosalind,  was  paralyzed  and  never  recovered.  She  had 
just  uttered  the  words,  "  I'd  kiss  as  many  of  you  as 
pleased  me,"  when  her  voice  was  hushed  and  was  never 
again  heard  on  the  stage.  The  once  famous  comedian 
Foote  was  also  paralyzed  while  performing  in  his 
own  comedy.  The  Devil  on  Two  Sticks,  and  never  re- 
covered. 

Another  case  was  that  of  Moody,  who  held  respectable 


Mortuary  Record.  393 

rank  on  the  British  stage,  and  whose  hist  appearance  was 
as  Claudio,  in  Measure  for  Measure.  Just  as  he  exclaimed, 
"Aye,  but  to  die  and  go  we  know  not  where,"  he  sank  to 
the  floor  and  was  borne  off  a  corpse.  James  Bland,  who 
also  had  a  respectable  position  in  the  profession,  expired 
in  the  Strand  theatre. 

Edmund  Kean  affords  another  very  impressive  instance. 
While  playing  Othello  in  London,  just  as  he  exclaimed, 
"  O,  then,  farewell,"  he  fell  into  the  arms  of  his  son  (who 
took  the  role  of  lago),  and  he  had  just  strength  enough 
to  say,  "  Speak  to  them,  Charles,  I  am  dying."  He  was 
borne  off  and  revived  for  a  while,  but  death  soon  closed 
his  chequered  career. 

Hanley,  the  comedian,  became  speechless  on  the  stage 
after  uttering  the  words  of  Laimcelot  Gobbo,  "  I  have  an 
exposition  of  sleep  come  over  me,"  and  he  never  spoke 
again,  Cummings,  who  occasionally  appeared  in  tragedy, 
expired  while  performing  the  role  of  Dumont  in  Jane 
Shore,  just  as  he  uttered  the  following  words : 

Be  witness  of  me,  ye  celestial  hosts; 
Such  mercy  and  such  pardon  as  my  soul 
Accords  to  thee  and  begs  heaven  to  show  thee, 
May  such  befall  me  at  my  latest  hour. 

Barrett,  who  was  so  clever  in  old  men's  parts,  died 
after  playing  Polonius,  and  was  carried  home  a  corpse. 
Mrs.  Glover  was  struck  with  paralysis  on  the  occasion 
of  her  farewell  benefit,  and  died  three  days  afterward. 
Mrs.  Linley,  the  once  popular  vocalist,  expired  at  a 
concert,  while  singing  "I  know  that  my  Redeemer 
liveth." 

A  very  remarkable  occurrence  of  this  kind  took  place 
at  the  Ilolliday  street  theatre,  Baltimore,  in  1874.  John 
Ferris,  while  playing  a  leading  role  in  Lady  Audley's  Se- 
cret, was  borne  off  the  stage  in  a  helpless  condition  and 
50 


S94  Our  Book. 

died  before  morning.  These  facts  show  the  exhaustive 
nature  of  the  dramatic  profession,  and  many  of  those 
scenes  which  awaken  applause  are  performed  amid  agony 
and  under  the  very  shadow  of  death. 

CiBBEEiAN  Reminiscences. 

A  very  curious  rep  rod  action  of  old-fashioned  drama  is 
found  in  Gibber's  play,  entitled  She  Would  and  Slie 
Would  not,  which  was  recently  played  in  New  York. 
The  Gibbers  were  once  a  noted  family  and  held  rank 
in  London  for  three  generations,  but  at  present  they 
are  almost  forgotten.  The  first  of  the  London  family 
came  from  Holland,  and  was  an  inimitable  wood-car- 
ver, his  gigantic  figures  of  raving  and  melancholy  mad- 
ness being  the  finest  works  of  the  kind  in  existence. 
They  were  executed  for  Bedlam  where  they  still  attract 
attention. 

His  son,  Golley  Gibber,  was  connected  with  the  drama 
during  almost  the  entire  extent  of  a  long  life.  He  was 
contemporary  with  Pope,  who  made  him  the  butt  of 
some  of  his  keenest  shafts.  The  wit  of  the  great  satirist 
indeed  was  sharpened  by  the  ridiculous  appointment  of 
poet  laureate,  which  had  been  conferred  on  Gibber,  and 
this  explains  the  pungent  paragraph  in  the  Dunciad : 

High  on  a  gorgeous  seat  which  far  outshone 
Henley's  gilt  tub  or  Flecknoe's  Irisli  throne, 
Great  Gibber  sat;  the  proud  Parnassian  sneer, 
The  conscious  simper  and  the  jealous  leer, 
Mix  in  his  look. 

In  another  place  in  the  same  work  Pope  says  that 

Less  human  genius  than  God  gives  an  ape 

'Twixt  Plautus,  Fletcher,  Shakespeare  and  Corneille, 

Can  make  a  Cibber,  Tibbald  and  Ozill. 

Pope  also  represents  the  goddess  of  dullness  thus  ex- 
claiming after  she  had  annointed  the  laureate : 


The  Gibbers.  395 

All  liail  and  hail  again  ! 

My  son,  the  promised  land  expects  thy  reign. 
Know  Eusdeu  tliirsts  no  more  for  sack  or  praise, 
He  sleeps  among  the  dull  of  ancient  days. 
Safe  whore  no  critics  damn  or  duns  molest, 
Where  wretched  Welsted,  Ward  or  Gilden  rest. 
And  high-born  Howard's  more  majestic  sire, 
With  Fool  of  Quality  completes  the  quire. 
Thou  Gibber,  too,  his  laurels  shall  support. 
Folly,  my  son,  has  still  a  friend  at  court. 
She  ceased ;  then  swells  the  chapel  royal  throat, 
"God  save  King  Gibber,"  mounts  in  every  note. 
Familiar  White  "  God  save  King  Golley  "  cries; 
"God  save  King  Colley,"  Drury  Lane  replies. 
Back  to  Drury  the  last  echoes  roll, 
And  "  Coll  '■  each  butcher  roars  at  Hockley  hole. 

Notwithstanding  Pope's  keen  satire,  Colley  Gibber  re- 
tained his  popnlaritj  as  a  dramatist.  He  was  fifty-seven 
when  the  Dunciad  appeared,  and  though  he  no  doubt 
felt  its  power,  he  had  won  a  position  which  he  held  till 
death.  lie  wrote  a  large  number  of  popular  plays,  and  also 
adapted  Richard  Third  to  the  stage,  taking  liberties  with 
the  text  which  have  awakened  the  indignation  of  many 
admirers  of  that  famous  tragedy.  His  son  Theophilus 
was  also  a  player  and  dramatist. 

Transitory  Fame. 

The  evanescent  nature  of  an  actor's  fame  is  in  striking 
contrast  with  that  of  artists  and  authors.  The  effusions 
of  the  poet  may  be  preserved  and  kindred  spirits  may 
give  them  renewed  existence  after  the  lapse  of  centuries. 
There  is,  however,  no  way  of  perpetuating  the  effect  of 
histrionic  genius.  The  impressions  which  the  actor  creates 
only  live  in  the  memory  of  those  who  witness  his  per- 
formance, and  yet  the  sensations  which  it  produces  are 
the  most  powerful  in  all  the  mastery  of  genius.  No 
demonstration  of  applause  is  so  hearty  as  that  of  a 
crowded  theatre  whose  sea  of  heads  all  harmonizes  in 
one  grand  utterance  —  but  how  quickly  it  is  passed. 


390  OuB  Boofi. 

Hence  the  difficulty  of  really  measuring  tlie  compara- 
tive ability  of  different  players.  AVho,  one  may  ask,  was 
tlie  greatest  Ilamlet  ?  Was  it  Betterton,  Garrick,Kemble, 
Henry  Irving,  or  our  own  Booth  ?  "Who,  it  may  also 
be  asked,  was  the  best  personator  of  the  Crookback 
Tyrant,  Edmund  Kean  or  Booth,  senior  ?  To  these  ques- 
tions no  satisfactory  reply  can  be  given. 

The  impression  made  on  a  house  full  of  spectators  is 

beyond  the  power  of  description,  and  in  this  featm-e  the 

histrionic   profession    differs   from    all  others.     Garrick 

alludes,  in   a   touching  manner,   to   this   very   point  in 

one  of  his  prologues,  when  comparing  himself  to  Hogarth: 

The  painter  dead  yet  still  he  charms  the  eye, 
While  England  lives  his  fame  can  never  die. 
But  he  who  struts  his  hour  upon  the  stage 
Can  scarce  extend  his  fame  but  half  an  age. 
Nor  pen  nor  pencil  can  the  actor  save; 
The  art  and  artist  share  one  common  grave. 

It  is  thus  evident  that  though  the  actor's  life  may  be  a 
succession  of  triumphs,  3'et  when  once  he  is  gone,  his  art 
is  gone  also.  Not  a  vestige  is  left,  and  though  it  may 
be  the  theme  of  eloquent  description,  how  completely 
this  fails  to  convey  the  effect?  The  triumphs  of  the 
drama  indeed  cannot  be  described ;  they  must  be  seen  ; 
and  hence  when  a  great  actor  dies  his  role  dies  with 
liira. 

Maceeady's  Emotions. 
Macready  was  one  of  the  most  emotional  of  his  pro- 
fession. Often  irritable  and  overbearing,  the  public 
little  imagined  the  depth  and  tenderness  of  his  feelings 
when  in  a  better  frame.  He  seemed  fully  conscious  of  the 
transitory  nature  of  professional  reputation,  and  his  journal 
contains  the  following  remark  in  reference  to  the  sad  obse 
quies  of  one  of  the  most  brilliant  dramatic  stars  of  that 
day: 


Actors*  Fund.  397 

Entered  the  room  where  lay  the  remains  of  Kean!  Poor 
creature !  Soon  after  tlie  procession  was  formed  and  we  paced 
througli  tlae  crowded  streets,  amid  the  loud  remarks  and  repeti- 
tion of  names  l>y  the  crowd.  Entering  the  churcli  the  coffin  was 
set  in  its  proper  place,  and  as  I  gazed  upon  poor  Kean  I  was  filled 
with  sad  memories  —  contrasting  his  once  burning  energy  with 
the  mass  of  cold  corruption  before  me. 

Years  afterward,  when  Macready  retired,  worn  out  by 

years  of  hard  service,  he  wrote  to  a  friend  :    "  What  a 

dream  to  me  now  is  Hamlet ;  also  Macbeth  and  Lear  and 

lago  and  Cassius  and  others,  in  whose  very  being  I  seem 

to  have  lived  —  so  much  of  their  thoughts  and  feeling, 

indeed,  were  my  own."    This  idea  recalls  the  appropriate 

words  of  Prospero,  in  the  Tempest : 

These  our  actors, 

As  I  foretold  you,  were  all  spirits,  and 

Are  melted  into  air  —  thin  air. 

Macready' s  depth  of  thought  is  indicated  by  the  fact 
that  he  inscribed  on  the  tablet  over  the  vault  in  Kensal 
Green,  which  contains  the  remains  both  of  himself  and 
all  the  family,  the  following  lines  from  Gray's  elegy : 

There  they  alike  in  trembling  hope  repose, 
The  bosom  of  his  Father  and  his  God. 

Actors'  Fund. 

The  effort  made  to  establish  a  permanent  fimd  in  be- 
haK  of  decayed  performers  reminds  us  that  there  is  moi'e 
poverty  among  this  class  than  any  other.  The  dramatic 
profession  is  full  of  broken-down  players,  and  there  are 
few  cases  which  look  more  hopeless  than  a  poverty-stricken 
actor.  A  few  stars  carry  off  both  the  honors  and  the 
profits  of  the  profession,  leaving  the  rest  to  the  common 
fate  of  poverty  and  miser3^  True,  Cliarlotte  Cushman 
and  Edwin  Forrest  each  left  an  immense  fortune.  Jef- 
ferson is  rich,  and  so  are  a  few  others,  but  the  profession 
in  New  York  alone  numbers  more  than  a  thousand,  and 
how  few  of  the  number  can  hope  for  wealth  or  fame  'i 


398  OuE  Book. 

Poverty,  indeed,  has  always  been  the  shadow  on  the 
drama,  and  even  Betterton,  who  flourished  in  the  days  of 
Charles  II,  and  who  wa8  the  first  man  that  could  play 
Hamlet,  became  so  poor  in  his  latter  days  that  he  was 
glad  to  receive  a  benefit.  Garrick's  sympathy  with  the 
unfortunate  members  of  the  profession  was  such  that  his 
last  appearance  was  at  a  benefit  of  this  very  character. 
He  originated  the  fund  for  decayed  actors,  and  on  the 
10th  of  June,  1776,  he  took  his  farewell  as  Don  Felix  in 
the  Wonder,  making,  on  this  occasion,  a  plea  for  the  un- 
fortunate. 

To  show  the  depth  of  hia  sympathy,  I  add  a  few  line ; 
from  the  prologue,  which,  being  spoken  by  himself,  must 
have  been  of  great  power  : 

A  veteran  see  whose  last  act  on  the  stage 
Entreats  your  smiles  for  sickness  and  for  age; 
Their  cause  I  plead  —  plead  it  with  heart  and  mind, 
A  fellow  feeling  makes  one  wondrous  kind, 
Might  not  we  hope  your  zeal  would  not  be  less 
When  I  am  gone,  to  patronize  distress? 
That  hope  obtained  the  wished-for  end  secures, 
To  soothe  their  cares  who  oft  have  lightened  yours. 

Pressure  for  the  Stage. 

There  never  was  a  greater  effort  to  obtain  a  position 
on  the  stage  than  at  the  present  time.  Managers  are 
continually  solicited  by  amateurs  of  both  sexes  for 
such  opportunities.  It  is,  however,  very  difiicult  to 
gratify  their  request,  and  hence,  when  a  debut  is  ur- 
gently demanded,  it  costs  a  large  sum.  If  a  beginner 
has  money,  the  way  to  the  stage  can  be  bought,  but 
otherwise  there  are  many  obstacles.  Perhaps  it  were 
better  if  tliere  were  more,  since  the  profession,  as  has 
been  mentioned,  is  one  of  the  most  undesirable  char- 
acter. 

Stage  fever  is  evidently  on  the  increase,  and  a  dramatic 


Stage   Fever.  399 

agent  says  that  the  pressure  from  amateur  actresses  is  be- 
yond all  idea.  Many  of  this  class  belong  to  respectable 
families,  while  others  are  poor  girls  who  imagine  that 
they  have  histrionic  genius,  and  are  captivated  by  the 
glamour  of  the  performance.  Occasionally  an  advertise- 
ment appears  offering  to  educate  ladies  for  the  stage,  but 
the  object  is  merely  to  get  money  out  of  the  applicant. 
The  latter  will  be  informed  that  it  will  cost  $600,  $800, 
or  even  $1,000  to  get  up  a  play  in  which  she  can  appear, 
and  in  many  cases  the  artifice  is  successful.  As  soon  as 
the  money  is  paid,  however,  the  scheme  fails,  and  the 
amateur  must  make  the  best  of  the  lesson  of  experi- 
ence. 

This  rush  for  the  stage  is  nothing  new,  and  indeed  it 
was  so  incessant  in  London  more  than  a  century  ago,  that 
the  play  of  the  Apprentice  was  written  for  the  very  pur- 
pose of  checking  it.  The  prologue,  spoken  by  the  author, 
contains  the  following  lines  : 

My  hero  is  a  youth  by  fate  designed 

For  culling  simples  —  but  whose  stage-struck  mind 

Nor  fate  could  rule  nor  writings  bind. 

A  place  there  is  where  such  young  Quixotes  meet, 

Where  'prentice  kings  alarm  the  gaping  street  — 

To  check  these  heroes  and  their  laurels  crop, 

To  bring  tliem  back  to  reason —  and  their  shop, 

Was  but  my  aim. 

The  epilogue  (or  closing  address)  spoken  by  Mrs.  Olive, 

also  has  a  similar  lesson  directed  to  the  female  aspirants 

for  stage  honors  : 

O,  I  could  show  you,  were  I  so  inclined, 

A  spouting  junto  of  the  female  kind. 

There  is  a  maid  that  deals  out  lace 

That  fain  would  fill  the  fair  Ophelia's  place. 

O,  little  do  these  silly  people  know. 

What  dreadful  trials  actors  undergo. 

Then  take  advice  from  me,  ye  giddy  things, 

Nor  envy  more  the  drama's  queens  and  kings; 

Maidens,  beware  —  let  not  our  tinsel  train 

Enchant  your  eyes  and  turn  your  dizzy  brain. 


400  Concerning  Benefits.' 

The  earliest  instance  of  this  kind  which  I  can  find  on 
record  is  the  benefit  given  to  Betterton,  who  was  tlie  first 
player  that  ever  did  justice  to  Shakespeare.  The  latter 
had  been  dead  more  than  twenty  years  before  the  birth 
of  him  who  was  first  to  give  the  world  a  true  idea  of 
high  tragedy.  Betterton  was  the  son  of  a  London  pastry 
cook,  and  was  born  in  1635.  Sir  William  Davenant,  who 
then  had  control  of  the  London  Theatre,  discerned  his  talent 
and  brought  him  before  the  public  in  the  days  of  Charles  II 
when  the  theatre  was  revived  under  royal  patronage. 

Betterton  soon  displayed  great  genius,  which  was  much 
in  contrast  with  his  personal  appearance.  He  was  the 
ugliest  man  in  face  and  form  that  ever  became  a  star  — 
being  short,  fat,  clumsy,  with  a  big  head,  short  neck, 
short  arms,  small  eyes,  big  face  with  pock  marks,  thick 
legs  and  big  feet.  Notwithstanding  these  defects,  he 
mastered  his  part  so  perfectly  as  to  become  majestic  and 
thrilling.  He  made  Hamlet  popular,  a  role  which  till 
his  day  had  never  been  properly  performed.  In  his  old 
age  Betterton  became  very  poor  and  for  this  reason  the 
London  theatres  gave  him  a  benefit.  This  took  place  in 
1710,  and  it  was  but  a  few  days  before  his  death. 

The  sympathy  shown  the  poverty-stricken  tragedian  is 
a  proof  of  the  kindly  feeling  which  marked  the  profession 
even  at  that  early  day.  The  performers  were  Quinn, 
Barton  Booth,  Bowen,  Mrs.  Oldfield,  and  others  whose 
names  are  now  hardly  remembered. 

Betterton  married  an  actress  who  v/as  the  first  person 
that  could  play  Lady  Macbeth.  She  died  soon  after  her 
husband  and  then  there  was  no  one  to  fill  this  role  until 
Sarah  Kemble  appeared  sixty  years  afterward. 

Other  Benefits. 
The  same  sympathy  toward  the  profession  was  a  marked 


Theatkical  Benefits.  401 

feature  in  the  masters  of  the  drama  wlio  followed  Shakes- 
peare's time,  and  it  was  extended  not  only  to  needy 
players,  but  also  to  critics. 

John  Dennis,  for  instance,  who  wrote  much  on  this 
subject,  and  who  is  one  of  the  prominent  victims  of 
Pope's  Dunciad,  had  a  benefit  given  him  in  1733 — just 
before  his  death.  Pope  wrote  the  prologue  for  the  occa- 
sion. He  had  been  greatly  slandered  by  Dennis,  whom 
lie  repaid  with  bitter  sarcasm  ;  but  when  the  old  litterateur' 
was  in  distress  forgiveness  took  the  place  of  wrath.  This 
prologue  has  some  very  fine  points,  especially  where  it 
mentions  Dennis'  opposition  to  French  theatricals : 

Such,  such  emotions  should  in  Britons  rise 
When  pressed  by  waiit  and  weakness  Dennis  lies; 
Dennis,  wlio  long  has  warred  with  modern  Huns, 
Their  quibbles  routed  and  defied  their  puns. 

A  benefit  was  giv^en  in  1750  to  Milton's  granddaughter. 
The  prologue  was  written  by  Johnson  and  spoken  by 
Garrick.  Three  years  afterward  Addison's  Cato  was 
performed  by  the  scholars  of  a  grammar  school  for  the 
benefit  of  the  orphan  of  one  of  their  teachers.  The  pro- 
logue is  a  very  appropriate  apology  and  was  written  by 
one  of  the  scholars,  a  few  of  whose  lines  I  present  as  a 
sample : 

No  Garrick  here  majestic  treads  the  stage, 
No  Quin  j'our  whole  attention  to  engage; 
No  practiced  actor  here  the  scene  employs; 
But  a  raw  parcel  of  unskilled  boys. 

Coraus  was  performed  for  the  benefit  of  the  hospital 
at  Bath  in  1756.  The  prologue  was  written  by  Iloadley 
and  spoken  by  Miss  Morrison.  It  recites  her  difficulty 
in  soliciting  charity  and  here  is  the  result  of  her  applica- 
tion : 

He  shook  his  head, 

Complained  that  stock  were  low  and  trade  was  dead. 

In  tliese  Bath  charities  a  tax  he  found 

More  heavy  than  four  shillings  on  the  pound. 

51 


402  OuE  Book. 

It  now  seems  strange  that  such  dull  plays  as  Comue 
and  Cato  should  be  offered  to  an  ordinary  audience- 
Strange  also  to  think  that  such  a  man  as  Addison,  who 
never  had  the  fire  of  genius,  and  never  rose  above  the 
dead  level  of  the  quiet  essayist,  should  ever  attempt  a 
tragedy  after  reading  Shakespeare. 

In  1777  the  comedy  of  the  Word  to  the  Wise  was 
performed  for  the  benefit  of  Kelly,  a  well  known  player 
of  that  day,  though  now  forgotten.  The  prologue  was 
written  by  Johnson  and  refers  to  the  nature  of  the  occa- 
sion in  the  following  closing  lines  : 

Then  shall  calm  reflection  bless  the  night 
When  liberal  pity  dignified  delight; 
When  pleasure  fired  her  torch  at  Virtue's  flame, 
And  Mirth  was  bounty,  with  an  humble  name. 

The  Ophidian. 

One  of  the  most  remarkable  female  performers  that 
ever  appeared  on  the  American  boards  was  Rachel,  whose 
wonderful  powers  were  increased  by  that  fascinating 
serpent  look  which  often  surprised  and  charmed  her  audi- 
ence. She  was  called  an  ophidian  and  attracted  the  notice 
of  physiologists,  including  Oliver  Wendell  Holmes,  who 
soon  after  wrote  a  novel  —  Elsie  Yenner  —  which  pre- 
sents the  same  idea.  An  ophidian,  according  to  this 
theor}',  is  a  person  who  is  naturally  endowed  with  a  ser- 
pent-like power,  and  also  with  an  expression  which  occa- 
sionally carries  the  same  influence.  When  Rachel 
rendered  her  finest  roles,  the  audience  often  felt  as  though 
the  eyes  of  a  serpent  were  fixed  upon  them,  and  they 
became  fascinated  in  an  indescribable  manner.  Mrs. 
Ritchie,  herself  an  actress,  said  of  Rachel:  "There  was 
something  terrific  and  overwhelming  in  her  impersona- 
tions. From  the  moment  she  came  on  the  stage  I  was 
under  the  influence  of  a  spell.     Her  eye  had  the  power 


The  Ophidian.  403 

of  a  basilisk  and  flashed  with  an  intense  brightness  which 
no  serpent  could  have  rivalled. 

Rachel  sprang  from  the  lowest  order  in  Europe.  Her 
father  was  a  poverty-stricken  pedlar ;  his  daughters,  how- 
ever, were  popular  vocalists,  and  one  became  the  star  of 
Paris.  In  1855,  Rachel  played  in  New  York  and  made 
a  tremendous  sensation,  but  she  died  soon  after  her 
return  to  Europe.  As  an  ophidian  she  stands  alone  in 
the  dramatic  record. 

Old  Costumes. 

The  sale  of  the  costumes  and  other  properties  formerly 

belonging  to  McCullough  awoke  many  of  those  painful 

associations  which  are  repeated  in  the  history  of  every 

star.     What,  indeed,  becomes  of  the  dresses,  weapons  and 

general  outfit  of  our  great  players  after  they  have  left 

the  stage?     Garrick  brings  out  this  idea  in  a  pathetic 

manner  in  a  prologue  spoken  more  than  a  century  ago : 

The  master  of  this  shop,  too,  seeks  repose; 
Sells  off  his  stock  in  trade,  his  verse  and  prose. 
His  daggers,  buskins,  thunder  and  old  clothes. 

One  of  the  most  attractive  exhibitions  in  connection 
with  the  dramatic  world  would  be  a  collection  of  the 
costumes  of  distinguished  performers.  How  interesting, 
indeed,  it  would  be  to  see  how  Garrick  dressed  in  Hamlet, 
or  in  Lear ;  or  Cooke  in  Macbeth,  Kean  in  Richard  III, 
Mrs.  Siddons  in  Lady  Macbeth,  Ellen  Tree  in  Rosalind, 
and  Charlotte  Cushman  in  any  of  her  roles. 

What  becomes  of  all  these  theatrical  relics  ?  They  are 
rarely  thrown  into  the  market,  and  indeed  this  is  the  first 
sale  of  the  kind  that  I  can  recall.  Hence,  I  presume 
they  are  left  to  the  usual  fate  of  old  clothes,  and  perhaps 
are  worked  over  by  the  costumer  and  go  through  a 
gradual  decline  until  their  final  appearance  might  remind 
one  "  to  what  base  uses  we  may  come  at  last." 


404  Our  Book, 

Actors'  Jealousies. 

Few  of  those  who  are  attracted  by  stage  performances 

have  any  idea  of  the  jealousy  and  bitter  rivah-y  which  so 

often  gnaw  the  actor's  heart.     Macready,  who  was  one  of 

the  most  successful  of  the  profession,  confesses  the  power 

of  such  passions,  and  I  find  in  his  journal  the  following 

record : 

Sent  for  the  morning  paper,  and  read  the  account  of  Phelps' 
appearance,  whicli  seems  to  have  been  a  decided  success.  This 
depressed  my  spirits.  An  actor's  fume  and  his  dependent  in- 
come is  so  precarious  tliat  we  start  at  the  shadow  of  every  rival. 
It  is  an  unhapjjy  life. 

If  such  be  the  feelings  of  a  star,  what  must  be  those 

of   others  whose  lives  are  a  mere  struggle  for  bread? 

Macready  himself  was  pursued  by  the  jealousy  of  Forrest, 

which  was  the  real  cause  of  the  Astor  Place  riot,  and  a 

score  of  unfortunate  citizens  was  sacificed  to  the  base 

passions  of  one  who  could  not  endure  a  rival.     It  was 

said  of  Forrest  by  a  fellow  player  : 

He  was  cowardly,  bullying  and  dictatorial.  He  monopolized 
the  stage  as  much  as  possible,  forcing  his  support  to  subordi- 
nate themselves  in  order  that  he  might  gain  the  entire  applause. 
The  opportunity  they  might  have  for  "  making  a  point  "  was 
hurried  over  in  order  to  secure  his  own  glorification. 

This  disposition  is  too  frequent  to  awaken  surprise, 
though  fortunately  it  is  rarely  that  it  reaches  such  an 
extent,  as  in  the  case  of  Foirest,  whose  passions  have  left 
a  dark  stain  upon  his  character. 

Metamora. 

This  was  one  of  Forrest's  best  roles,  and  yet  it  was 
inferior  in  every  point  except  adaptation  to  his  great 
muscle  and  power  of  rant.  In  1828  he  had  an  engage- 
ment at  the  Park,  and  in  order  to  awaken  public  interest 
he  offered  a  prize  of  $500  for  the  best  drama,  the  judges 
including  the  names  of  Fitz  Greene  Halleck,  Prosper  M. 
Wetmore,  William  Legget  and  William  Cullen  Bryant, 


Metamoka.  405 

tlie  two  latter  being  associate  editors  of  the  Evening 
Post.  The  prize  was  acljndged  to  John  A.  Stone,  who 
offered  an  Indian  play  called  Metamora.  The  splendid 
success  of  the  drama  is  too  well  known  to  need  further 
reference,  but  it  affords  a  sad  contrast  with  the  fate  of 
the  author.  Five  years  afterward,  being  then  deranged, 
he  drowned  himself  in  the  Schuylkill.  Forrest  had  a 
monument  placed  over  the  grave  of  the  unfortunate 
dramatist,  bearing  the  following  inscription :  "  To  the 
memory  of  John  Augustus  Stone,  who  died  June  1, 
1834,  aged  33  years."  On  the  reverse  is  inscribed, 
"  Erected  to  the  memory  of  the  author  of  '  Metamora,'  by 
his  friend  Edwin  Forrest." 

Amateur  Theatricals. 
Some  of  our  most  popular  authors  have  been  successful 
amateur  players,  at  the  head  of  wjjoni  stands  the  gifted 
Charles  Dickens.  This  distinguished  novelist,  indeed, 
would  probably  have  become  the  most  successful  comedian 
of  his  day  had  he  made  the  drama  his  profession,  Byron 
was  also  a  very  clever  stage  amateur,  notw^ithstanding  his 
lameness.     He  says  in  his  journal: 

When  I  was  a  youth  I  was  reckoned  a  good  actor.  I  played 
Penruddock  in  the  Wheel  of  Fortune,  and  also  Tristram  Fickle  in 
the  Weathercock,  and  some  private  theatricals  in  1806,  with  great 
applause.  The  prologue  for  one  play  was  also  my  production, 
and  the  whole  went  off  with  great  effect  on  our  good-natured 
audience. 

Byron  was  an  admirable  mimic  and  delivered  the  above 
mentioned  prologue,  which  contained  a  hit  at  each  of  the 
other  performers,  and  w^ith  the  addition  of  tone  and  man- 
ner was  highly  comic.  This  prologue  is  one  of  the  best 
things  in  Hours  of  Idleness,  and  the  same  volume  con- 
tains the  following  poetic  reminiscence  of  a  similar  char- 
acter : 


406  Our  Book. 

I  once  more  view  the  room  with  spectators  surrounded, 
Wliere  as  Zanga,  I  stood  on  Alonzo  o'erthrown  ; 
While  to  swell  my  young  pride  such  applauses  resounded, 
I  fancied  that  Mossop  himself  was  outshown, 
Or  as  Lear,  I  poured  forth  the  deep  imprecations, 
By  my  daughters  of  kingdom  and  reason  deprived ; 
Till  fired  by  loud  plaudits  and  self  adulation, 
I  regarded  myself  as  a  Garrick  revived. 

Washington  Irving  was  also  a  very  clever  amateur 
player,  and  while  at  Dresden  united  with  the  Fosters  and 
other  English  society  in  producing  Three  Weeks  after 
Marriage,  his  role  being  Sir  Charles  Kacket.  Irving 
afterward  took  the  part  of  Don  Felix  in  the  Wonder,  and 
had  he  cultivated  his  histrionic  talent,  he  might  have 
reached  distinction  on  the  stage  —  though  his  rank  as  an 
author  rendered  this  unnecessary. 

Voltaire  was  the  oldest  of  stage  amateurs,  for  Gibbon 
saw  him  when  sixty-three  play  a  role  in  several  of  his 
own  tragedies.  The  dramatist  organized  a  company 
auQong  his  friends  and  fitted  up  a  theatre  at  his  villa  near 
Lausanne.  It  was  the  recreation  of  an  active  mind, 
when  expelled  from  a  royal  court.  Gibbon  was  highly 
favored  to  obtain  admittance.  He  thought  Voltaire  too 
declamatory,  but  that  was  the  style  of  the  old  French  stage. 

The  earliest  instance  of  private  theatricals  is  found  in 
the  Tempest,  where  Prospero  honors  the  marriage  of 
Ferdinand  and  Miranda  with  a  simple  but  exquisite  dra- 
matic performance,  the  players  being,  as  he  says : 

Spirits  which  by  mimic  art 
I  have  from  their  confines  call'd  to  enact 
My  present  fancies. 

The  enchanting  scenes,  however,  soon  disappear,  and 

then  Prospero  exclaims : 

Our  revels  now  are  ended,  these  our  actors 

Are  melted  into  air  —  thin  air, 

And  like  tlie  baseless  fabric  of  this  vision 

The  cloud-capped  towers,  the  gorgeous  palaces. 

The  solemn  temples,  the  great  globe  itself, 


The  Napoleon  Play.  407 

Yea,  all  which  it  inlierit  shall  dissolve, 
And  like  this  unsubstantial  pageant  faded. 
Leave  not  a  wreck  behind.      We  are  sucii  stuff 
As  dreams  are  made  of,  and  our  little  life 
Is  rounded  by  a  sleep. 

What  a  grand  lesson  is  thns  tanglit  by  tlie  first  private 
theatricals  in  the  dramatic  record  ! 

Napoleon  on  the  Stage. 
In  1840  the  remains  of  Napoleon  were  brought  from 
St.  Helena  to  Paris  and  placed  in  Les  Invalides,  an  event 
which  awoke  great  interest  in  America,  as  well  as  in 
Europe.  Ilamblin  improved  the  opportunity  by  drama- 
tising the  entire  movement,  and  it  proved  very  popular. 
A  young  actor  named  Mason,  who  had  a  Napoleon  figure 
and  profile,  personated  the  famous  exile  whose  last  days 
at  St.  Helena  were  rendered  in  a  skillful  manner.  The 
death  scene  was  very  impressive,  and  after  an  imaginary 
interval  of  twenty  years  came  the  resurrection  with  the 
shipment  of  the  corpse,  the  steamboat  voyage  up  the 
Seine  and  the  grand  military  procession  in  Paris.  The 
latter  was  assisted  by  a  military  company  which  was 
marched  in  a  manner  so  ingenious  as  to  represent  a  vast 
column  of  troops.  The  effect  was  heightened  by  fine 
scenery  and  martial  music,  and  the  apotheosis  which  closed 
the  performance  was  really  thrilling.  Just  as  the  coffin 
was  lowered  into  the  sarcophagus,  Napoleon  himself  ap- 
peared in  effigy  suspended  in  mid  air.  It  was  the  tradi- 
tional emperor  with  top  boots,  cocked  hat  and  folded  arms, 
but  with  a  radiant  countenance.  Before  the  audience 
could  recover  from  its  surpi-ise  the  effigy  was  rapidly 
drawn  up  and  disappeared  amid  a  celestial  brilliance  which 
suggested  glory  and  beatitude. 

Dramatic  Marriages. 
Looking  at  theatrical  life,  one  is  led   to  notice   that 


408  OcK  Book. 

players  generally  marry  in  their  own  profession.  This 
occurs  not  only  among  stock  actors  but  among  stars.  The 
drama  cannot  boast  of  matrimonial  felicity  even  in 
the  moderate  degree  enjoyed  by  other  classes,  but  there 
are  a  few  instances  of  an  exceptional  character,  among 
which  Garrick  stands  prominent.  Macready  married  a 
young  actress  who  played  Virginia  with  him,  and  their 
union  was  as  favorable  as  his  irascible  temper  would 
permit.  The  Chanfraus  were  a  united  couple,  and  yet 
both  were  professional  players  and  acted  together  with 
much  success. 

Edwin  Forrest  married  a  young  actress  named  Catharine 
Sinclair,  daughter  of  a  public  singer  of  some  note  in 
London.  It  may  be  remembered  that  after  she  had  beaten 
her  faithless  husband  in  the  divorce  case  she  went  on  the 
stage, but  did  not  reach  success  in  the  drama.  Tom  Hamblin 
married  Miss  Medina,  who  was  an  accomplished  writer  of 
farces,  and  small  dramatic  pieces.  Edwin  Booth's  first 
wife  though  not  a  star,  was  an  excellent  actress ;  his  sec- 
ond was  the  daughter  of  a  theatrical  manager.  His 
brother,  Junius  Brutus  Booth,  married  an  actress,  and-  I 
might  refer  to  other  illustrations  of  this  peculiar  fact.  It 
is  very  reasonable  that  these  alliances  should  take  place, 
as  the  parties  are  constantly  thrown  into  each  other's 
society,  and  are  at  the  same  time  secluded  from  that  of 
outside  circles. 

Star  players  of  good  repute  may  enter  first-class 
society,  but  the  number  thus  admitted  is  small.  Mr. 
and  Mrs.  Charles  Kean,  and  also  Macready,  Booth, 
Frederick  Paulding  and  Henry  Irving,  may  be  men- 
tioned among  the  small  list  of  favored  names.  Hence 
the  profession  is,  to  a  large  degree,  shut  up  to  itself 
for  society,  and  intermarriage  follows  as  a  natural  re- 
sult. 


Histrionic  Families.  4o9 

The  fact  that  histrionic  genius  is  bequeathed,  often  to 
an  unusual  degree,  has  been  frequently  noticed.  The 
Kemhles  are  the  most  prominent  instance,  but  there  are 
also  the  Wallacks  and  the  Jeffersons.  The  present  admira- 
ble Rip  Yan  Winkle  is  the  second  of  the  family  that  won 
liistrionic  rank,  and  his  son,  though  not  equally  gifted,  is 
still  very  clever  in  light  comedy.  The  American  drama 
was  founded  by  the  Ilallams,  and  in  this  family  the 
histrionic  gift  was  bequeathed  for  three  generations. 

Washington  Irving  has  been  mentioned  as  an  amateur, 
and  his  grand  nephew,  Frederick  Paulding,  comes  very 
naturally  by  his  histrionic  gift,  which  he  has  cultivated 
in  a  very  successful  manner.  Kate  Claxton  is  the  grand- 
daughter of  the  late  preacher  Cone,  who,  in  his  early 
days,  was  an  admirable  player. 

The  Keans,  father  and  son,  were  another  striking 
instance,  and  though  the  first  had  by  far  the  greatest 
genius,  the  latter  was  one  of  the  stars  of  his  day.  The 
Booths  are  also  an  histrionic  family,  and  its  founder, 
Barton  Booth,  was  the  only  player  ever  honored  by  a 
grave  in  Westminster  Abbey  —  but  he  has  been  far  ex- 
celled by  some  of  his  descendants. 

The  Kembles. 
Having  referred  to  this  remarkable  family,  I  add  a  few 
details.  Roger  Kemble  died  in  1802,  aged  four  score; 
having  long  itinerated  with  his  wonderful  family,  whose 
genius  was  developed  often  under  the  most  trying  cir- 
cumstances. One  who  lived  to  see  the  family  reach  dis- 
tinction mentioned  seeing  Mrs.  Siddons,  when  a  very 
young  woman,  standing  behind  the  scenes  and  knocking 
a  pair  of  snuffers  against  a  candlestick  to  imitate  the  sound 
of  a  windmill  during  some  harlequin  performance. 

Roger  Kemble  lived  to  see  three  of  his  sons  and  two  of 
53 


410  OuB  Book. 

his  daughters  on  the  stage,  the  latter  being  Mrs.  Whit- 
lock  and  Mrs.  Siddons.  Mrs.  Whitlock  made  a  profes- 
sional visit  to  this  country  and  was  much  admired  by 
"Washington,  who,  daring  his  presidency,  occasionally 
attended  the  John  street  theatre. 

Mrs.  Siddons  reached  much  higher  rank  and  indeed 
has  never  been  equaled.  Her  husband  was  a  respectable 
player,  but  the  genius  of  his  wife  kept  him  in  a  life  long 
shadow.  Mrs.  Siddons  was  noted  for  her  majestic  person, 
and  her  mastery  over  Shakespeare's  greatest  characters. 
She  commenced  playing  in  company  with  Garrick,  who 
then  was  about  to  retire,  and  continued  until  1812,  when 
she  withdrew,  just  as  Kean  and  a  new  generation  of 
great  performers  were  winning  fame. 

The  brilliant  critic,  William  Hazlitt,  said  of  Mrs.  Sid- 
dons that  "she  appeared  of  a  superior  order  of  beings,  and 
to  be  surrounded  by  a  personal  awe  like  some  prophetess 
of  old."  Washington  Irving,  who  saw  her  in  her  fiftieth 
year,  said  :  "  What  a  wonderful  woman  !  She  froze  and 
melted  my  heart  by  turns.  A  glance  of  her  eye  or  an 
exclamation  thrilled  my  whole  frame.  I  can  hardly 
breathe  while  she  is  on  the  stage." 

Macready's  Tribute. 
Macready  who  played  with  Mrs.  Siddons  when  she  was 
in  her  fifty-sixth  year,  says  in  his  reminiscences : 

The  tliought  of  standing  by  the  side  of  this  great  mistress  of 
her  art  liung  over  me  in  terrorem.  After  several  rehearsals  the 
dreaded  day  of  her  arrival  came  and  I  was  ordered  by  my  father 
to  go  to  the  Queen's  Head  Hotel  to  rehearse  my  scenes  with  her. 
The  impression  tlie  first  sight  of  her  made  on  me  recalled  the 
page's  description  of  the  effect  on  himself  of  Jane  de  Montfort'a 
appearance  in  Joanna  Baillies'  tragedy   of  De  Montfort.     It  was 

So  queenly,  so  commanding,  and  so  noble, 
I  shrunk  at  first  in  awe ;   but  when  she  smiled, 
For  so  she  did  to  see  me  so  abashed, 
Methouglit  I  could  have  compassed  sea  and  land 
To  do  her  bidding. 


Mks.  S1DDON8.  411 

What  eulogy  can  do  justice  to  her  personationa  I  How  inade- 
quate are  the  endeavors  of  the  best  writer,  to  depict  with  accu- 
racy to  another's  fancy,  the  landscape  that  in  its  sublime  beauties 
may  have  cliarracd  him ! 

The  tall  rock,  the  mountain,  and  the  deep  and  gloomy  wood 
may  have  "  their  colors  and  their  forms  "  particularized  in  elo- 
quent language,  but  can  they  be  so  presented  to  the  "  mind's  eye  " 
of  the  reader  as  to  enable  him  to  paint  from  them  a  picture  with 
whicli  the  reality  will  accord?  or  will  any  verbal  account  of  the 
most  striking  features  of  "the  human  face  divine,"  convey  a 
distinct  portraiture  of  the  individual? 

How  much  less  can  any  force  of  description  imprint  on  the 
imagination  the  sudden  but  tlirilling  effects  of  tone,  or  look,  of 
port  or  gesture,  or  even  of  the  silence  so  often  significative  in  the 
development  of  human  passions.  As  these  are  not  transferable, 
I  will  not  presume  to  catalogue  the  merits  of  this  unrivaled  artist 
but  may  point  out,  as  a  guide  to  others,  one  great  excellence  that 
distinguislied  all  her  personations.  This  was  tlie  unity  of  design, 
the  just  relation  of  all  parts  to  the  whole,  that  made  us  forget  the 
actress  in  the  character  she  assumed. 

Throughout  the  tragedy  of  The  Gamester  devotion  to  her  hus- 
band stood  out  the  mainspring  of  her  actions  —  the  ruling  passion 
of  her  being;  apparent,  indeed,  when  reduced  to  poverty  in  her 
graceful  and  cheerful  submission  to  the  lot  to  which  his  vice  has 
subjected  her,  in  her  fond  excuses  of  his  ruinous  weakness,  in  her 
conciliating  expostulations  with  his  angry  impatience,  in  her  in- 
dignant repulse  of  Stukeley's  advances,  when  in  the  awful  dig- 
nity of  outraged  virtue  she  imprecates  the  vengeance  of  Heaven 
upon  his  guilty  head.  The  climax  of  her  sorrows  and  sufferings 
was  in  the  dungeon,  when  on  her  knees,  holding  her  dying  hus- 
band, he  dropped  lifeless  from  iier  arms.  Her  glaring  eyes  were 
fixed  in  stony  blankness  on  his  face;  the  powers  of  life  seemed 
suspended  in  her;  her  sister  and  another  player  gently  raised  her 
and  slowly  led  her  unresisting  from  the  body ;  her  ga/e,  never  for 
an  instance,  averted  from  it;  when  they  reach  the  prison  door  she 
stopped,  as  if  awakened  by  a  trance,  uttered  a  shriek  of  agony  that 
would  have  pierced  the  hardest  heart,  and  rushing  from  them,  flung 
herself,  as  if  for  union  in  death,  on  the  prostrate  form  before  her. 

She  stood  alone  on  her  height  of  excellence.  Her  acting  was 
perfection,  and  as  I  recall  it  I  do  not  wonder,  novice  as  I  was,  at 
my  perturbation  when  on  the  stage  witli  her. 

Mrs.  Siddons,  after  the  play,  sent  to  me  to  say  when  I  was 
dressed  she  would  l)c  glad  to  see  me  in  her  room.  On  going  in 
she  "wished,"  she  said,  "to  give  me  a  few  words  of  advice  be- 
fore taking  leave  of  me."  "  You  are  in  the  right  way,"  she  said, 
'' but  remember  what  I  say;  study,  study,  studj%  and  do  not  marry 
till  you  are  thirty.  I  remember  what  it  was  to  be  obliged  to  study 
at  nearly  your  age  with  a  young  family  about  me.  Beware  of 
that;  keep  your  mind  on  your  art;  do  not  remit  your  study,  and 
you  are  certain  to  succeed.  Do  not  forget  my  words;  study  well, 
and  God  bless  you.'' 


412  OuK  Book. 

Her  words  lived  with  me,  and  often,  in  moments  of  despondency, 
have  come  to  cheer  me.  Her  acting  was  a  revelation  to  me,  which 
ever  after  had  its  influence  on  me  in  the  study  of  my  art.  Ease, 
grace,  untiring  energy  through  all  the  variations  of  human  pas- 
sion, blended  into  that  grand  and  massive  style,  had  been  with 
her  the  result  of  patient  application.  On  first  witnessing  her 
wonderful  impersonation,  I  may  say  with  the  poet: 

Then  felt  I  like  some  watcher  of  the  skies 
When  a  new  planet  swims  into  his  ken. 

And  I  can  only  liken  the  effect  they  produced  on  me,  in  devel- 
oping new  trains  of  thought,  to  the  awakening  power  that  Michael 
Angelo's  sketch  of  the  colossal  head  in  the  Farnesina  is  said  to 
have  had  on  the  mind  of  Raphael. 

The  Sons. 
Roger  Kemble's  three  Bons  made  their  mark  on  the 
stage,  but  the  genius  of  the  eldest  overshadowed  the 
others  and  thus  this  has  left  bat  one  of  the  name  on 
prominent  record.  In  this  manner  John  Philip  Kemble 
and  Sarah  Siddons  stand  as  a  matchless  pair.  Charles, 
the  youngest  of  the  gifted  trio  of  sons,  was  not  born 
until  Sarah  had  reached  the  highest  distinction.  He  be- 
came well  known  as  a  comedian  of  more  than  respectable 
talent,  and  would  have  had  a  prominence  in  the  profes- 
sion had  it  not  been  for  the  grandeur  of  genius  so  near 
of  name  and  kin.  Next  comes  George  who  was  some 
years  older  than  the  last  mentioned,  and  who  was  a  good 
player  until  excessive  corpulence  drove  him  from  the 
stage.  lie  was,  however,  a  successful  manager  and  ad- 
hered to  the  profession  through  life.  It  is  a  matter  of 
peculiar  note  that  out  of  Roger  Kemble's  twelve  chil- 
dren the  oldest  sou  and  the  oldest  daughter  sliould  bear 
tlie  honors.  John  Philip  was  just  eighteen  months 
younger  than  Mrs.  Siddons.  They  made  their  first  ap- 
pearance on  the  stage  in  almost  the  same  week.  He  was 
nineteen  while  his  sister  was  nearly  twenty-one.  That 
year  Garrick  retired  from  the  profession  and  his  mantle 
seemed  to  fall  on  Kemble.     He  remained  at  the  head  of 


The  KembleS.  413 

the  stage  until  his  retirement  in  1817,  after  an  unpar- 
alleled dramatic  career  of  forty- one  years.  This  was  five 
years  longer  than  Garrick's,  whose  professional  career 
had  hitherto  been  of  unequalled  duration.  Kerable's 
representation  of  Hamlet  has  a  traditional  majesty  which 
probably  has  never  been  attained  except  by  Edwin  Booth. 

Fanny  Kemble. 

This  gifted  woman  was  the  daughter  of  the  above- 
mentioned  Charles,  and  hence  was  grandchild  of  the  first 
histrionist  of  the  name.  She  made  her  debut  in  London 
in  1829,  being  then  eighteen.  This  was  two  years  before 
the  death  of  her  aunt,  Mrs.  Siddons,  and  the  latter,  who 
was  then  in  her  seventy-fourth  year,  was  enabled  to  see  the 
talent  of  the  family  thus  continued  in  admirable  perfec- 
tion. Her  success  before  the  public  was  such  as  to  en- 
title her  to  the  first  rank  in  the  performers  of  the  day. 
Three  years  afterward  she  made  a  professional  tour 
through  the  United  States,  accompanied  by  her  father, 
who  was  old  and  poor  and  needed  her  assistance.  She 
subsequently  married  the  rich  Pierce  Butler,  of  Phila- 
delphia, and  retired  from  the  stage. 

The  alliance  was  of  an  unhappy  character.  It  was 
severed  by  a  divorce  granted  by  the  State  of  Pennsylva- 
nia, and  she  resumed  her  family  name.  Since  then  she 
has  won  distinction  as  a  reader  of  Shakespeare  and  was 
the  first  woman  to  introduce  this  entertainment  to  an 
American  audience. 

John  Philip  Kemble  was,  from  his  swarthy  counte- 
nance, familiarly  known  in  the  profession  as  "Black 
Jack."  Irving  saw  the  unusual  spectacle  of  three  Kem- 
bles  on  the  stage  at  once  at  Covent  garden.  John  was 
Othello,  Mrs.  Siddons  was  Desdemona,  while  Charles 
was  Cassio.     To  make  the  play  still   more  effective  the 


414  Our  Boo^. 

gifted  George  Frederick  Cooke  took  the  part  of  lago. 
Some  years  afterward  Ir^dng  met  the  latter  in  this  city 
and  reminded  him  of  the  wonderful  performance.  Cooke 
was  much  gratified  by  the  remembrance,  and  exclaimed 
with  delight,  "  Didn't  I  play  up  to  Black  Jack  ?  I  saw 
his  dark  eye  sweeping  back  on  me."  At  the  time  this 
auecdote  occurred  Cooke  was  playing  at  the  Park  theatre. 
He  died  soon  afterward  and  was  buried  in  St.  Paul's 
churchyard. 

Kean. 

The  history  of  this  man  is  peculiarly  strange  and  even 
romantic.  An  illegitimate  son  of  an  actress  named  Carey, 
he  for  some  years  bore  his  mother's  name.  He  was  from 
childhood  brought  up  to  the  stage,  and  his  eyes,  so  won- 
derfully black,  attracted  great  admiration.  His  father, 
whose  name  he  soon  assumed,  was  little  known  except  as 
a  workman  about  the  theatres.  At  the  age  of  twelve 
the  boy  player  accompanied  his  mother  in  a  theatrical 
tour,  and  after  long  practice  he  rose  to  fame  on  the  Lon- 
don boards.  From  pantomime  and  harlequin  he  readily 
became  Shylock  and  Richard  IK,  in  which,  at  the  age  of 
twenty-eight,  he  was  distinguished. 

He  was  the  smallest  actor,  in  point  of  size,  that  ever 
attained  distinction,  but  that  little  form  had  wonderful 
powers,  and  he  surprised  the  public  with  the  variety  of 
his  gifts.  He  sang  so  sweetly  that  he  would  have  done 
well  as  a  vocalist ;  he  was  an  accomplished  dancer,  and 
at  the  same  time  an  adroit  pugilist ;  as  a  fencer  he  had  no 
superior ;  he  was  a  ventriloquist,  and  also  an  admirable 
acrobat,  and  played  harlequin  to  delighted  houses.  To 
these  points  it  is  to  be  added  that  he  was  the  most  terrific 
of  all  living  delineators  of  high  tragedy.  Kean's  black 
eyes  startled  and  attracted  everybody.     They  were  said 


Kean. 


41  i 


to  be  the  blackest  ever  seen.  Kean  was  thirty-three  when 
he  appeared  on  the  boards  of  the  Park  theatre,  but  thougli 
he  made  a  capital  Richard  III,  he  could  not  succeed  as 
Hamlet. 


PAKK  THEATRE. 


Studying  Character. 

Kean  told  Dr.  Francis  that  Lear  was  best  played  by  a 
young  man,  because  his  insanity  and  decrepitude  were  a 
very  laborious  part.  He  said  that  he  had  studied  insanity 
at  the  London  asylums  as  a  preparation  for  Lear,  and  he 
expressed  a  desire  to  visit  the  Bloomingdale  asylum  for 
the  same  purpose.  Dr.  Francis  took  him  thither  in  a 
carriage.  While  on  the  way  Kean  expressed  a  desire  to 
see  Vauxhall,  which  stood  near  what  is  now  Astor  place. 
The  carriage  halted,  and  Kean  asked  to  survey  the  estab- 
ment.  The  keeper  assented,  and  was  astonished  to  see 
the  stranger  give  two  somersaults  which  brought  him 
near  to  the  end  of  the  garden. 

They  then  drove  to  the  asylum,  and  the  tragedian  was 
allowed  to  see  some  of  the  patients.  The  fine  prospect 
to  be  seen  from  the  roof  of  the  building  was  mentioned. 


416  Our  Book. 

and  he  was  invited  to  ascend.  He  was  much  exhilarated 
by  the  view,  and  exclaimed  :  "  I  will  walk  to  the  edge  of 
the  roof,  and  take  a  leap.  It  is  the  best  use  I  can  make 
of  my  life."  He  then  hurried  forward,  but  the  attend- 
ants seized  him  and  he  submitted  to  their  kind  violence. 
Dr.  Francis  thought  that  it  was  really  a  subtle  and  irre- 
sistible purpose  of  suicide. 

Kean's  name  is  perpetuated  by  the  shaft  which  he 
placed  in  St.  Paul's  churchyard  to  the  memory  of  George 
Frederick  Cooke,  who  died  in  this  city  in  1812.  It  was 
repaired  by  Charles,  his  son,  in  1846,  and  also  by  E.  A. 
Sothern  in  1874,  so  that  it  is  now  restored  to  original 
beauty.  This  is  a  remarkable  succession  of  respectful 
tokens,  following  from  one  generation  to  another.  I  can- 
not gaze  upon  that  monument  without  recalling  Dr.  Fran- 
cis's description  of  Kean  standing  by  its  side  the  evening 
of  his  departure  for  England,  and  singing  in  his  sweet 
manner,  "Those  Evening  Bells,"  and  also  "Come  O'er 
the  Sea." 

The  greatest  danger  of  the  histrionic  profession  is  in- 
temperance. Cooke,  Kean  and  the  senior  Booth  were 
lamentable  illustrations  of  the  destructive  power  of  this 
habit,  which  at  the  present  time  is  doing  its  work  of  ruin 
in  the  theatrical  world.  One  reason  of  this  is  found  in 
the  exhausting  nature  of  stage  performance.  Some  of 
those  parts  which  seem  the  easiest  are  really  the  severest 
in  their  effects.  Players  soon  get  jaded  by  the  intense 
strain  on  the  nervous  system,  and  the  resort  to  strong 
drink  seems  inevitable.  Ballet  performers  generally  have 
a  trying  part  in  the  performance,  and  therefore  drink 
freely.  The  inside  life  of  the  dramatic  world  is  full  of 
sorrow,  and  presents  a  strange  contrast  with  the  garish 
splendor  which  so  often  awakens  the  admii-ation  of  the 
young  and  inexperienced. 


Dramatic   Succession.  417 

How  these  players  come  and  go  in  constant  succession ! 
When  Kenible  came  upon  the  stage,  Garrick  had  just 
retired  after  a  lonoj  and  brilliant  reicn.  His  immediate 
predecessor  in  tragedy  was  Barton  Booth,  who  though 
a  clever  player,  was  not  to  be  compared  with  himself. 
Garrick  made  his  debut  in  1741,  being  then  twenty-five. 
At  that  time  Quin  was  the  best  player  in  London,  but 
was  hardly  above  mediocrity. 

Garrick's  superiority  was  at  once  manifest,  and  he  re- 
tained supremacy  of  the  stage  until  177G,  when  he  retired 
after  a  reign  of  thirty-five  years.  He  was  then  sixty,  and 
he  died  three  years  afterward. 

Barton  Booth  had  been  in  his  grave  seven  years  when 
Garrick  appeared.  He  was  the  best  actor  during  Queen 
Anne's  reign,  and  at  his  death  the  London  stage  was  reduced 
to  Quin.  The  latter  began  his  dramatic  career  by  appear- 
ing in  1717,  being  then  only  twentj'^-four.  When  Garrick 
entered  upon  the  stage  Quin  felt  that  his  day  was  over, 
and  in  a  few  years  he  retired  at  the  age  of  fifty-five,  Quin 
had  a  popularity  among  the  lowest  orders  of  theatre  goers, 
to  which  Pope  alluded,  coupling  his  name  with  Mrs.  Old- 
field,  who  had  also  won  a  moderate  reputation : 

While  all  its  throats  the  gallery  extends, 
And  all  the  thunders  of  the  pit  ascends. 
Loud  as  the  -wolves  on  Orca's  stormy  steep, 
Howl  to  the  roarings  of  the  northern  deep. 
Such  is  the  shout,  the  loud  applauding  note 
At  Quin's  high  plume  and  Oldfield's  petticoat. 

Barton  Booth,  like  Quin,  and  also  Garrick,  had  been 
intended  for  the  bar,  but  deserted  law  for  the  drama.  He 
made  his  debut  at  seventeen,  and  for  thirty-one  years 
reigned  on  the  London  stage,  and  yet  his  style  was  proba- 
bly far  beneath  the  present  standard. 

The  Founder. 

The  founder  of  the  British  stage  was  Sir  William  Dave- 
53 


418  Our  Book. 

nant,  who  was  by  some  supposed  to  be  really  a  son  of 
Shakespeare.  His  father  kept  a  tavern  which  the  great 
dramatist  often  visited,  and  Davenant  bore  a  striking 
resemblance  to  the  latter.  Davenant  was  nine  years  old 
when  Shakespeare  died.  He  early  displayed  histrionic 
talent  and  after  the  restoration  of  Charles  If,  made  up  a 
company  of  players  and  organized  a  permanent  theatre. 
He  was  the  first  to  produce  movable  scenery,  rich  cos- 
tumes, and  other  desirable  appointments,  and  through  his 
influence  Betterton  was  introduced  to  the  public. 

Davenant  was  buried  in  Westminster  Abbey,  and  is  the 
only  stage  manager  laid  in  that  place  of  fame,  except 
Sheridan.  His  place  of  rest  is  marked  by  that  pithy,  but 
expressive  sentence,  "  0,  Good  Sir  William  Davenant." 
How  much  such  a  brief  review  of  departed  talent  reminds 
one  that  "All  the  world's  a  stage,"  and  the  changes  in 
the  modern  drama  are  full  of  such  lessons. 

Gbadtjal  Pkogress. 

If  Shakespeare  could  only  return  to  life  and  see  the 
difference  between  Hamlet,  with  Booth  in  the  title  role, 
and  the  performance  of  the  same  play  at  the  Black  Friars, 
with  himself  as  "  the  ghost,"  how  great  would  be  his  as- 
tonishment 1  The  advance  has  been  the  steady  growth  of 
two  centuries.  In  Shakespeare's  day  there  was  no  man 
that  could  do  justice  to  Hamlet,  and  indeed  that  wonder- 
ful play  had  been  in  existence  sixty  years  before  any  one 
appeared  who  could  master  so  difficult  a  role.  This  man 
was  Betterton,  who  was  bred  a  pastry  cook,  but  rose  to 
be  the  first  tragedian  of  his  day.  Betterton  was  deficient 
in  personal  aj^pearance,  but  ho  could  master  a  character, 
and  Hamlet  thus  rendered  l)ecaiiie  a  reality.  After  his 
death  there  was  no  Hamlet  for  another  sixty  years,  when 
<^Tarrick  left  his  wine  cellar  for  the  stage,  just  as  Better- 


Interesting  Prologite.  419 

ton  left  the  cook  shop.  The  Booth  family  dates  before 
even  Garrick,  but  though  Barton  Booth  could  play  Cato 
in  Addison's  tragedy,  ho  was  not  adequate  to  Hamlet.  In 
his  day,  however,  Hamlet  was  not  played,  and  it  can 
hardly  be  said  that  Addison  ever  saw  Shakespeare  prop- 
erly performed.  Barton  Booth's  best  feature  was  his  im- 
pressive appearance,  as  appears  from  Pope's  lines: 

Booth  enters  —  liark!  the  universal  peal! 
But  has  he  spoken?  —  not  a  syllable. 

The  Booth  family  has  only  developed  the  highest 
histrionic  genius  in  its  later  generations.  The  theatre  in 
Garrick's  day  was  a  great  advance  on  Betterton's,  but 
how  inferior  to  that  of  the  present !  Personally  speaking, 
however,  Garrick  rendered  Shakespeare  inimitably,  and 
hence  was  the  leading  attraction  of  the  London  stage  for 
thirty  years.  Just  as  he  retired,  John  Philip  Kemble 
made  his  debut  and  became  the  Hamlet  of  a  succeeding 
age. 

The  histrionic  talent  of  Great  Britain  reached  a  sud- 
den development  at  the  opening  of  the  present  century, 
equal,  indeed,  with  that  which  marked  its  poetic  genius. 
While  Byron,  Coleridge,  Shelley  and  Scott  afforded  a  re- 
vival of  hterature,  Kemble,  Cooke,  Kean,  Mrs.  Siddons 
and  Macready  were  contemporary  stars  on  the  British 
stage.     As  a  galaxy  they  have  never  been  equalled. 

Interesting  Prologue. 
The  gradual  progress  to  which  I  have  referred  is  sug- 
gested by  the  following  prologue,  written  by  Sir  William 
Davenant,  and  spoken  at  the  Black  Friars  theatre  in 
1643,  just  twenty-seven  years  after  Shakespeare's  death. 
The  object  of  the  writer  was  to  censure  the  artificiality 
of  taste  as  compared  with  the  simplicity  of  primitive 
times : 


420  Our  i3ooK. 

For  ten  times  more  wit  tlian  was  allowed 

Your  silly  ancestors  in  twenty  year, 

You  expect  in  two  hours  to  be  given  here; 

For  they  I  know  to  the  theatre  would  come 

Ere  they  had  dined,  to  get  the  best  room; 

There  sit  on  benches  —  not  adorned  with  mats, 

Good,  easy  judging  souls  —  with  what  delight 

They  would  expect  a  jig  or  target  tight, 

A  furious  tale  of  Troy,  which  they  ne'er  thought 

Was  weakly  written,  so  'twere  strongly  fought; 

Laugh  at  the  very  shadow  of  a  jest 

And  cry  "a  passing  good  one  I  protest." 

Such  dull  and  humble  witted  people  were 

Your  forefathers,  whom  we  governed  here ; 

And  such  had  you  been  too  —  had  not 

The  poets  taught  you  how  to  unweave  a  plot, 

And  trace  the  scenes  and  to  admit 

What  was  true  sense  and  what  did  sound  like  wit. 

Thus  they  have  armed  you  'gainst  themselves  to  fight, 

Made  strong  and  mischievous  by  what  they  write. 

Perhaps  one  of  the  audience  that  heard  the  above  pro- 
logue was  Milton,  who  some  years  previously  had  written  : 

Then  to  the  well  trod  stage  anon, 
If  Jonson's  learned  sock  be  on: 
Or  sweetest  Shakespeare,  fancy's  child, 
Warble  his  native  wood  notes  wild. 

What,  however,  seems  to  be  a  more  interesting  point 
in  this  connection  is  the  allusion  to  the  "  tale  of  Troy," 
which  must  have  been  very  popular  at  that  time,  for  Mil- 
ton in  portraying  the  drama,  presents  the  following  im- 
pressive idea  of  a  revival  of  the  classic  stage : 

Sometime  let  gorgeous  tragedy 
In  sceptered  pall  come  sweeping  by: 
Presenting  Thebes  or  Pelop's  line 
Or  the  tale  of  Troy  divine. 

Another  interesting  point,  is  the  date  of  the  prologue 
which  is  1643.  At  that  time  the  war  between  Charles  I 
and  the  people  was  in  progress,  and  one  thus  sees  that 
the  drama  could  still  live  even  amid  such  bloody  and  try- 
ing times.  In  the  same  manner  it  flourished  during  the 
late  civil  war  in  America,  which  was  vastly  more  horri- 


PoE  AND  Hawthorne.  421 

ble.  The  mind  often  seeks  relief  wlien  under  a  pressure 
of  agony.  During  the  bloodiest  scenes  in  the  French 
revolution,  a  dozen  theatres  were  sustained  in  Paris. 

Possible  Tragedians. 

America  has  been  more  deficient  in  tragedy  than  in 
any  other  dramatic  literature.  There  were  two  authors, 
liowever,  who  under  favoring  influences  would  no  doubt 
have  shown  great  power  in  this  specialty,  I  refer  to 
Hawthorne  and   Poe.    Each   was  essentially  dramatic, 


EDGAR   A.    POE, 

and  it  Is  this  which  gives  their  productions  such  deep  in- 
terest. Poe's  brief  sketch  of  the  History  of  William 
Wilson  could  have  been  extended  into  a  thrilling  tragedy, 
and  the  same  statement  applies  to  the  Raven.  The 
gloomy  grandeur  of  Poe's  works  recalls  Milton's  idea  of 
the  tragic  muse  with  its  "  sceptered  pall,"  and  like  the 
old  Greek  tragedians,  he  omits  every  thing  that  might 
relieve  the  load  of  sorrow.  His  Fall  of  the  House  of 
Usher,  is  another  tragedy  which,  had  he  thrown  it  into 
stage  shape,  would  be  both  fascinating  and  harrowing  to 
a  degree  which  would  liave  ensured  popularity. 

Hawthorne's  woj-ks  are  also  highly  dramatic,  and  had 


4:22  Odk  Book. 

he  adapted  them  to  the  stage,  we  would  have  seen  old 
times  in  New  England  revived  in  their  most  saddening 
aspect.  The  death  of  Governor  Pjnehon  in  the  House 
of  the  Seven  Gables,  is  a  fine  scene  of  this  kind,  and 
even  the  Man  with  the  Yeil  could  be  made  an  effective 
feature  in  some  composite  effort.  What  I  mean  is,  that 
Hawthorne  might  have  brought  together  the  scenes  and 
characters  in  these  isolated  sketches  in  a  shape  admirably 
adapted  to  stage  effect.  I  should  not  be  surprised  indeed, 
if  both  Poe  and  Hawthorne  were  eventually  dramatised, 
and  if  properly  done,  it  will  command  success. 


NATHANIEL   HAWTHORNE. 

Unsuccessful  Plays. 

The  disappointments  incurred  by  dramatists  af^  often  of 
a  very  painful  nature.  Dr.  Johnson  based  great  hopes  on 
liis  Irene  which  Garrick  as  an  act  of  friendship  brought  out 
in  the  best  possible  style.  It  was  unsuccessful  and  John- 
son being  in  attendance  witnessed  its  failure,  which  was 
one  of  the  most  painful  scenes  in  his  life.  In  our  own  day 
both  Henry  Bergh  and  Judge  Barrett  were  obliged  to 


tlNSUCOESSFUL   Plays.  423 

submit  to  a  similar  experience,  for  each  wrote  a  play  which 
the  audience  damned.  Another  striking  instance  is  found 
in  Charles  Lamb  whose  case  is  presented  in  his  own  words. 
Let  us  imagine  a  young  man  of  thirty,  a  professional 
clerk  with  literary  taste,  who  had  written  a  farce  which 
found  acceptance  with  a  manager.  What  glowing  hopes 
must  have  cheered  him  in  expectation  of  the  perform- 
ance.   Assured  of  success  he  wrote  thus  to  a  friend  : 

The  managers  —  thank  my  stars  —  have  decided  on  its  merits 
forever.  They  are  the  best  judges,  and  it  would  be  ridic- 
ulous in  me  to  affect  a  false  modesty  after  the  very  flattering  letter 
I  have  received.  I  shall  get  £200  if  it  lias  a  good  run,  but  nothing 
if  it  fails.  Mary  and  I  are  to  sit  next  the  orchestra  on  the  open- 
ing night. 

The  farce  was  called  "  Mr.  II.,"  and  certainly  if  brevity 

be  the  soul  of  wit,  here  it  was  in  perfection.     The  title 

attracted  a  full  liouse,  but  before  the  close  of  the  first  act 

the  author's  friends  began  to  fear.     The  second  dragged 

heavily  on,  and  at  last  the  audience  uttered  its  verdict  — 

in  hisses  and  tumult.     Lamb  exhibited  the  perfection  of 

good  humor,  for  when  he  saw  his  case  was  hopeless  he 

joined  in  the  hooting  and  hisses.     In  a  letter  written  soon 

afterwards  he  says : 

Mary  is  a  little  cut  at  the  ill  success  of  "  Mr.  H."  I  know  you 
will  be  sorry,  but  never  mind,  we  are  determined  not  to  be  cast 
down. 

To  a  brother  poet  he  wrote  as  follows  : 

Dear  Wordsworth; —  "  Mr.  H."  failed.  The  subject  was  not 
substantial  enough,  and  John  Bull  must  have  solider  fare.  We 
are  pretty  stout  about  it  and  have  plenty  of  condoling  friends  — 
but  after  all,  we  had  rather  it  should  have  succeeded.  The  quan- 
tity of  friends  we  had  in  the  house  was  astonishing,  but  they  yielded 
at  last.  A  hundred  hisses  (hang  the  word,  I  write  it  like  kisses) 
outweigh  a  tiiousand  claps.  The  former  come  more  directly  from 
the  heart.     Well,  'tis  withdrawn,  and  there's  an  end  of  it. 

Thus  reader  you  have  an  example  of  the  way  in  which 
a  very  sensitive  man  may  bear  even  so  severe  a  disappoint- 
ment as  this.     It  is  doubtful  if  either  Judge  Barrett  or 


424  Our  Book. 

Henry  Bergli  displayed  greater  resignation  under  similar 
fate. 

Shakespeake's  Names. 

One  of  the  amusing  features  in  Shakespeare,  is  the 
liberty  which  he  takes  with  names,  mixing  all  nationalities 
in  the  most  liberal  manner.  For  instance,  Much  Ado 
about  Nothing  is  located  in  Italy,  but  it  contains  Dogberry. 
Twelfth  Night  is  an  Illyrian  play,  but  among  its  amusing 
characters  are  Sir  Toby  Belch  and  Sir  Andrew  Ague- 
Cheek  who,  like  Dogberiy,  are  thoroughly  English. 

When  reading  As  You  Like  It,  I  was  surprised  to  find 
Audrey  applied  to  a  woman,  since  female  names  rarely 
have  such  a  termination.  While  walking  recently  through 
a  rural  cemetery  however,  the  apparent  impropriety  was 
explained,  for  I  saw  a  slab  bearing  the  inscription, 
"  Audra  Ellis."  This  shows  that  Shakespeare  wrote  the 
name  as  it  was  incorrectly  pronounced.  It  may  have  then 
been  in  common  use,  but  at  present  it  is  so  rare  that  the 
above  was  my  first  acquaintance  with  it.  A  cemetery  is 
an  unexpected  place  to  find  a  commentary  on  Shakespeare, 
and  yet  many  important  facts  are  revealed  by  mortuary 
records.  That  tlie  great  dramatist  was  very  careless 
concerning  names  is  shown  by  the  fact  that  he  spelled 
his  own  in  different  ways  even  when  writing  his  will. 
This  strange  variety  is  humorously  explained  in  the 
following  lines : 

When  Master  Shakespeare  spelled  his  name, 

He  sought  all  men  to  please; 
And  when  it  shone  he  made  his  A, 

But  took  foul  weather  for  his  ee'a. 

Having  previously  referred  to  some  of  Shakespeare's 
solecisms,  it  may  be  mentioned  that  he  takes  a  similar 
liberty  with  money,  and  though  the  Comedy  of  Errors  is 
located  in  Greece  the  duke  in  the  opening  speech  refers 


ShakespeAke  and  his  Commentators.         425 

to  the  "mercliaiits  wanting  guilders,"  and  also  mentions 
"a  thousand  marks,"  but  a  still  greater  anachronism  is 
found  in  his  reference  to  America  in  the  same  play. 
Such  a  genius,  however,  could  not  be  held  by  minor 
distinctions.  When  Johnson  said  "  he  was  not  for  a  day, 
but  for  all  time,"  he  might  properly  have  added  he  was 
not  for  one  clime,  but  for  all  the  world. 

Shakespeare  and  his  Commentators. 

A  very  interesting  picture  has  been  painted  represent- 
ing Shakespeare  and  his  friends,  and  I  would  now  suggest 
as  a  corresponding  theme,  Shakespeare  and  his  commen- 
tators—  not  the  entire  number,  for  that  were  impossible, 
but  those  who  have  displayed  the  highest  order  of  critical 
genius.  Shakespeare  being  an  attractive  as  well  as  an 
unexhaustible  subject,  the  variety  of  his  critics  is  almost 
unlimited,  and  the  number  of  books  written  upon  his 
life,  text  and  genius  fills  eighty-nine  octavo  pages  in 
Sillig's  Index  of  Shakespearean  Literature,  which  is  still 
incomplete. 

Tlie  first  to  publish  a  book  on  the  great  dramatist  was 
Thomas  Ry  mer,  a  man  of  high  rank  in  the  study  of  ancient 
law  records,  but  very  deficient  in  other  points,  for  he 
made  Shakespeare  the  subject  of  mere  ridicule.  This 
occured  in  1693,  but  Dryden  and  Langbaine  had  pre- 
viously issued  their  criticisms,  and  these  were  followed 
by  Rowe's  edition,  published  in  1709,  which  was  the  first 
attempt  to  revise  the  text.  When  Pope  had  won  dis- 
tinction as  a  poet  he  became  ambitious  to  appear  as  a 
Shakesperian  commentator,  and  issued  an  edition  in  1725, 
which  only  proves  that  a  man  may  be  an  admirable  poet, 
and  yet  utterly  fail  in  dramatic  criticism. 

Pope's  edition  indeed  was  so  defective  that  nine  years 

later  Lewis  Theobald  published  another  edition  entitled 
54 


426  Our  Book. 

Shakespeare  Restored,  or  Specimens  of  Blunders  Com 
raitted  and  Unamended  in  Pope's  Edition  of  this  Poet. 
From  that  time  until  the  present  day  Shakespeare  has 
been  a  constant  subject  for  critics  and  commentators  and 
this  will  no  doubt  continue  as  long  as  our  language  en- 
dures. 

Sensible  Remark. 
One  of  the  most  sensible  utterances  concerning  Shakes- 
peare was  made  by  Theodore  S.   Fay  who,  thougli  now 
forgotten,  held  at  one  time  a  very  respectable  position  in 
literature.     He  wrote  as  follows : 

His  intellectual  dimensions  are  too  great  for  any  one  man  to  ex- 
plore liim.  No  one  age  could  grasp  his  full  meaning.  It  has  re- 
quired two  centuries  to  give  even  superior  minds  a  just  idea  of 
Shakespeare,  and  there  are  even  now  those  who  Iiave  written  books 
on  his  characters  and  yet  do  not  completely  compreliend  him.  To- 
morrow perhaps  the  wisest  of  them  will  discover  in  some  one  of 
his  plays  a  resplendent  meaning  never  known  to  him  before. 
Speaking  for  myself,  I  frankly  confess  I  have  never  understood 
him.  Every  day  I  make  new  discoveries,  and  I  have  no  doubt  I 
shall  continue  to  do  so  as  long  as  I  live. 

Notwitlistanding  Fay's  confession  that  he  had  never 
understood  Shakespeare  his  comments  show  deep  study 
and  close  analysis  of  the  most  important  characters. 

Fielding's    new  Reading. 

Disputes  concerning  the  meaning  of  some  of  Shakes- 
peare's utterances  have  continually  occurred,  and  even 
Fielding  —  more  than  a  century  and  a  half  ago  —  refers  to 
the  perplexity  concerning  what  he  calls  "  the  celebrated 
line  in  Othello ''  where  the  latter  exclaims  before  killing 
Desdemona. 

Put  out  the  light,  and  then  put  out  the  light. 

In  his  Journey  from  this  World  to  the  Kext,  Fielding 
represents  Betterton  and  Barton  Booth  in  Elysium  asking 
the  meaning  of  the  author  himself.     Fielding  gives  several 


Personal  Memoirs.  427 

readings  of  the  line  and  then  adds  his  own  which  seems 
very  judicious : 

Put  out  the  light,  and  then  put  out  thy  light. 
The  author  no  doubt  meant  (as  Fielding  claimed)  that 
Othello  preferred  to  commit  the  terrible  crime  in  the  dark. 
I  mention  this  merely  to  show  how  early  Shakespeare  be- 
came the  subject  of  new  readings,  and  having  given  one 
of  Fielding's  in  Othello  I  now  offer  one  of  my  own  in  the 
Tempest  where  Prospero  toward  the  close  exclaims  : 

Sir,  my  liege, 
Do  not  infest  your  mind  with  beating  on 
The  strangeness  of  this  business.     At  picked  leisure, 
Which  shall  be  shortly,  single  I'll  resolve  you 
These  happened  accidents. 

Now  as  Prospero  is  showing  how  a  great  and  general 
benefit  has  arisen  from  the  wreck  of  the  ship,  and  also  from 
previous  misfortune  and  even  crimes,  is  it  not  more  natural 
to  suppose  that  the  author  wrote  ^''  hajppy  instead  of  hap- 
pened —  especially  as  the  latter  is  mere  tautology,  for 
'  accident '  always  means  something  that  happens  ? " 
Shakespeare  rarely  uses  superduous  words,  and  I  therefore 
submit  to  the  reader  that  he  was  in  the  present  case  refer- 
ring to  the  felicitous  consummation  of  wha\,  appeared  like 
a  series  of  accidents,  but  was  really  the  result  of  Divine 
government. 

Shakespeare  Memories. 
Having  said  so  much  concerning  the  drama,  the  reader 
may  ask  for  my  personal  impressions.  I  have  never  been  an 
enthusiast  in  my  admiration  of  the  stage,  and  yet  I  am  glad 
to  have  seen  some  of  Shakespeare's  best  plays  rendered  in  a 
very  effective  manner.  While  1  was  a  poverty  stricken 
clerk,  earning  but  one  dollar  a  week,  and  boarding  myself 
in  the  store  in  a  very  meagre  manner,  Charles  Kean  came 
from  England  in  order  to  play  an  engagement,  and  I  was 


4^S  Our  Book. 

determined  to  see  liim.  I  paid  twenty-five  cents  for 
admission  to  the  gallery  or  fourth  tier,  and  certainly  I 
never  regretted  the  investment.  The  play  was  Othello, 
with  Hamblin  in  the  title  role  and  Kean  was  lago.  The 
performance  left  an  agreeable  memory  which  I  still  cherish, 
especially  as  I  have  never  since  then  seen  that  tragedy 
performed.  A  few  years  afterward  Kean  repeated  his 
visit,  bringing  his  wife  (Ellen  Tree)  with  him,  and  I  saw 
them  in  King  John.  I  was  deeply  impressed  with  her 
performance  of  Constance,  and  afterward  they  played  As 
You  Like  It,  which  was  as  charming  as  King  John  was 
majestic.  I  have  not  seen  these  plays  performed  since 
then,  but  their  memory  is  certainly  very  pleasing.  Later 
on,  when  Macready  made  his  last  visit  to  this  country,  I 
saw  him  in  Hamlet,  where  the  mysterious  prince  was 
rendered  in  an  admirable  manner,  and  I  am  very  glad  I 
improved  this  opportunity.  It  is  unfortunate,  however, 
that  if  the  theatre  be  limited  to  such  plays  it  cannot  be 
sustained.  Its  best  profits  generally  arise  from  perform- 
ances which  are  decidedly  injurious,  and  as  a  consequence, 
the  theatre  is  justly  condemned  by  those  who  take  a  seri- 
ous view  of  the  duty  and  destiny  of  our  race. 

CONCEENING    STAGE    FeIGHT. 

-'s  failure  through  stage  fright  is  the  com- 


mon theme  of  the  dramatic  world,  but  those  who  know 

anything  of  an  actor's  sufferings  will  not   be  surprised 

when  an  unusually  nervous  person  fails  from  this  cause. 

Macready  says  of  his  debut  (as  Romeo) : 

The  emotions  I  felt  on  first  crossing  the  stage,  coming  forward 
to  the  lights  and  facing  an  audience,  were  almost  overpowering. 
There  was  a  mist  before  my  eyes  and  for  some  time  I  was  like  an 
automaton  moving  in  certain  defined  limits.  I  went  mechanically 
through  the  variations  to  which  I  liad  been  drilled,  and  it  was 
not  until  the  plaudits  of  the  audience  awoke  me  to  self-conscious- 
ness that  I  entered  into  the  spirit  of  the  character. 


Stage  Fkight. 

Stage  fright  is  not  limited  to  first  appearance,  and  Mrs. 
Anna  Cora  Mowatt  had  her  worst  attack  three  years  after 
her  debut,  which  she  describes  as  follows : 

For  the  first  time  I  compreliendecl  tlie  full  meaning  of  the 
words  "stage  fright."  My  moment  of  fear  had  come  and  the 
malady  seized  me  in  its  worst  form.  I  could  not  force  my 
quivering  lips  into  a  smile,  and  when  I  spoke  1  could  not  hear 
my  own  voice.  Floating  mists  were  before  my  eyes.  What  was 
the  matter  with  my  feet?  When  I  tried  to  walk  it  seemed  as 
though  they  were  bound  together.  Mechanically  I  uttered  the 
words  of  my  part,  gazing  around  with  a  vacant  stare. 

Like  an  automaton  I  moved  immediately  through  the  perform- 
ance, and  I  seemed  to  be  gradually  sinking  on  a  shoreless  sea  — 
tiie  sea  of  public  condemnation.  At  last  came  a  change,  the  icy 
spell  was  suddenly  broken,  my  paralyzing  fears  melted  away  and 
I  went  on  with  an  impassioned  abandon  that  called  forth  a  storm 
of  applause.  It  was  six  months  before  I  recovered  from  the 
mental  effects  of  that  night. 

The  case  of ,  seems  much  of  the  same  nature. 

He  has  played  often  in  a  creditable  manner,  but  on  the 
occasion  referred  to  a  sudden  fear  of  meeting  the  public 
overcame  him  and  he  sought  refuge  by  leaving  the  place, 
and  another  actor  Avas  called  into  service.  It  may  be 
added  that  .^tage  fright  is  often  a  serious  embarrassment 
to  preachers,  lecturers  and  even  lawyers,  and  the  dread  of 
appearing  in  public  often  becomes  a  fearful  incubus. 
Some  men  never  fully  master  it  and  are  life-long  sufferers, 
and  indeed  it  often  requires  great  nerve  and  determina- 
tion to  meet  even  a  good  natured  audience. 

The  Tempest. 
Well,  reader,  perhaps  you  have  had  enough  of  the 
drama,  and  if  so,  you  may  skip  the  following  essay  whose 
didactic  nature  will  only  be  suitable  for  the  more  thought- 
ful class.  I  make,  however,  no  apology  for  inserting  it. 
On  the  other  hand,  I  invite  the  attention  of  all  Shakes- 
pearean students  to  the  subject,  and  if  they  differ,  I  shall 
be  glad  to  hear  their  views.  I  hope  indeed  to  attract 
attention  to  this  deeply  interesting  drama. 


i30  OuK  Book. 

What  is  the  Tempest  ?  This  question  meets  us  at  the 
very  start.  Shakespeare's  plays  are  chiefly  divided  into 
tragedies  and  comedies.  The  Tempest,  however,  is  not  a 
tragedy,  for  though  several  murders  are  planned,  they 
are  all  prevented  in  a  sudden  and  surprising  manner. 
On  the  other  hand  it  is  not  a  comedy,  for  though  it  con- 
tains some  comic  features,  they  are  subordinate  to  the 
grand  purpose. 

The  Tempest,  indeed,  holds  a  unique  position  —  differ- 
ing in  its  essential  points  from  all  the  rest  of  Shakes- 
peare's works. 

To  renew  the  question,  what  is  the  Tempest  ?  I  reply 
it  appears  to  me  the  solemn  presentation  of  great  moral 
truths  in  a  dramatic  garb. 

If  it  be  asked  why,  when  such  a  serious  purpose  was 
entertained,  so  much  of  the  comic  should  be  admitted,  I 
reply  that  the  latter  is  required  to  enliven  the  didactic 
element.  Without  it  the  play  would  be  too  tame  for 
performance. 

It  was  written  at  Stratford,  and  with  the  exception  of 
Henry  YIII,  is  the  latest  of  Shakespeare's  productions. 
It  bears  the  impression  of  a  deep  work  of  conscience  in 
the  author,  whose  former  evil  life  gave  ample  ground  for 
repentance.  It  is  the  purest  of  his  works,  and  the  only 
one  that  teaches  the  doctrine  of  an  overruling  Providence 
and  shows  how  God  can  bring  good  out  of  evil,  while  at 
the  same  time  it  illustrates  the  triumphant  manner  in 
which  evil  can  be  overcome  by  good.  I  am  convinced 
that  Shakespeare  was  under  a  deeply  serious  frame  when 
it  was  written,  and  that  he  not  only  desired  to  justify  the 
ways  of  God  toward  man,  but  also  to  make  a  plea  for 
himself,  since  his  own  sins  (in  abandoning  his  family)  had 
been  made  to  yield  an  eventual  benefit. 

Evil  is  presented  under  various  aspects.     There  is  the 


The  Tempest  —  a  new  Theory.  481 

murderous  ambition  of  tlie  usurping  brotlier,  tlio  tliievery 
of  Stepliano,  and  the  low  animal  nature  of  the  thoroughly 
debased  Caliban,  but  in  each  case  mercy  prevails  over 
judgment. 

Of  the  nine  male  characters  that  bear  a  part,  in- 
cluding Caliban,  six  purpose  to  connnit  murder  —  a 
greater  proportion  than  in  any  other  play  by  the  same 
author. 

The  Tempest  differs  from  all  other  of  Sliakespeare's 
plays  in  the  fact  that  it  opens  with  all  in  trouble.  The 
horrors  of  a  shipwreck  on  the  one  hand,  and  the  banish- 
ment of  Prospero  on  the  other,  are  combined  with  the 
rebellious  hate  of  Caliban  and  then  there  is  Ariel  chafing 
for  liberty,  while  Miranda  suffers  from  extreme  sympathy. 
These  troubles  gradually  abate,  but  while  doing  so  each 
yields  its  lessons,  and  the  finale  is  one  of  joy  (though  of  a 
subdued  tone)  at  the  manner  in  which  a  grand  benefit  is 
drawn,  not  only  from  misfortune  but  from  the  worst  of 
crimes. 

This  bold  interpretation  is  not  suggested  by  other 
Shakespearean  critics,  but  I  am  not  surprised  at  their  de- 
ficiency, for  I  had  read  the  play  many  times  before  the 
true  view  dawned  upon  me.  Most  of  the  critics  make 
but  little  reference  to  the  moral  aspect.  Coleridge,  while 
discoursing  on  Shakespeare,  says  "the  Tempest  ad- 
dresses itself  entirely  to  the  imaginative  faculty,"  whereas 
[  hold  that  it  addresses  itself  chiefly  to  the  moral 
nature. 

The  nearest  approximation  to  my  view  is  found  in 
Hudson's  lectures,  but  it  is  not  sufiieiently  comprehensive 
in  its  extent,  and  while  accepting  his  idea  so  far  as  it 
goes,  I  add  to  it  those  deeper  lessons  which  have  been 
revealed  to  me. 

Theodore   S.    Fay,  whose    admirable    disquisition  on 


438  Our  Book. 

Macbeth,  shows  his  mastery  of  dramatic  literature, 
writes  thus  concerning  the  drama  now  under  considera- 
tion : 

Of  the  Tempest  it  may  be  said  that  over  it  hangs  a  beautiful 
mystery,  which  has  not,  that  I  am  aware  of,  been  yet  explained. 
*  *  +  I  dwell  with  delightful  curiosity  ou  tliose  grand,  and 
yet  not  all  explained  lessons  of  this  fascinating  creation. 

That  beautiful  mystery  I  think  I  have  penetrated  and 
therefore  I  invite  the  reader  to  share  its  benefit.  I  will 
add,  by  way  of  explanation,  that  the  following  interpre- 
tation flashed  upon  my  mind  one  day  while  taking  a  walk, 
and  when  on  returning  home  I  read  the  printed  page,  I 
saw  that  I  had  never  previously  understood  the  author's 
purpose.  I  would  add  that  in  order  to  assist  the  reader 
and  avoid  confusion  of  names,  I  have  used  some  adjec- 
tives sucli  as  the  "good  counselor"  and  the  "false  king," 
only  meaning,  however,  that  the  latter  was  false  to 
humanity. 

Story  of  the  Tempest. 
Prosper©,  the  Duke  of  Milan,  is  supplanted  by  his 
treacherous  brother  Antonio,  who  is  assisted  by  Alonso, 
the  king  of  Naples,  to  whom,  as  a  consideration,  he 
promises  tribute.  They  convey  the  deposed  duke  and 
his  little  daughter  Miranda,  to  a  rotten  hulk  and  set  them 
adrift,  expecting  them,  if  spared  by  the  sea,  to  starve 
to  death.  An  old  friend,  however  (the  counselor  Gon- 
zalo)  being  apprised  of  this  infernal  plot,  places  food  and 
clothing  on  the  hulk  and  also  Prospero's  books.  Thus 
provided,  they  drift  to  the  island  where  Prospero  makes 
a  home.  He  finds  Ariel  (a  spirit  in  human  form)  fastened 
in  a  cloven  tree  by  the  malignant  charms  of  an  old  witch, 
and  having  released  him  by  his  greater  j^ower  of  magic  he 
obtains  his  constant  services,  and  then  there  are  other 
spirits  occasionally  employed. 


The  Tempest.  433 

The  only  other  inhabitant  of  the  island  is  Caliban,  a 
monster  in  shape  but  with  human  voice,  and  the  personi- 
fication of  total  dej^ravity. 

The  next  Point. 

Tears  passed  by  and  the  usurper  has  temporary  pros- 
perity. At  last  he  makes  a  voyage  to  Tunis  for  the  pur- 
pose of  attending  a  royal  wedding,  and  is  accompanied 
by  his  ally  Alonso,  king  of  Naples,  and  Ferdinand  the 
son  of  the  latter;  also  Sebastian,  Alonso's  brother.  The 
good  counselor  Gonzalo,  is  also  one  of  the  company. 
After  the  wedding  they  attempt  a  return  voyage,  but 
Prospero,  by  his  magic,  brings  them  to  the  shore  of  his 
island  and  then  creates  a  violent  tempest.  Here  the  play 
opens,  and  Miranda  seeing  the  vessel  in  danger,  pleads 
with  her  father  in  their  behalf.  Prospero  assures  her  of 
their  safety  and  then  refers  to  his  past  history  and  tells 
her  that  his  enemies  are  now  within  his  power.  He  then 
puts  her  to  sleep,  after  which  Ariel  enters  and  gives  an 
account  of  the  storm  and  tells  that  some  have  escaped  to 
land,  while  others  are  preserved  alive  on  shipboard  by 
his  protecting  power. 

The  usurping  duke,  together  with  the  king  of  Naples 
and  his  son,  and  also  Sebastian  escape  to  land  —  and  so  do 
the  good  counselor  Gonzalo,  together  with  two  worthless 
fellows,  Trinculo  and  Stephano.  The  king  of  Naples  sup- 
poses his  son  Ferdinand  to  be  lost  and  feels  deeply  this 
bereavement,  but  Prospero  has  not  only  preserved  him 
but  has  contrived  that  he  should  meet  Miranda,  intending 
that  a  mutual  love  should  be  the  consequence.  The  love 
scene  is  certainly  very  pretty  and  natural. 

Other  Survivors. 
We  now  leave  love's  young  dream  for  another  part  of 
the  island  where  most  of  those  who  escaped  are  gathered. 
55 


434  OuB  Book. 

The  good  counselor,  Gonzalo,  tells  Ids  associates  that  thev 
have  reason  to  be  thankful  for  their  escape,  but  thej  care 
little  for  his  words,  which  indeed  they  ridicule.  He  then 
tells  them  that  there  is  every  tiling  to  supply  life,  and  re- 
fers to  tlie  beauty  of  the  verdui-e  —  and  adds  what  seems 
so  marvellous,  that  their  garments,  though  drenched  in 
the  sea,  seem  really  improved  rather  than  stained.  They 
look  as  fresh  as  when  they  attended  the  wedding  in 
Tunis. 

Alonzo,  the  false  king,  is  annoyed  at  this  reference  to 
the  marriage  and  expresses  his  regret  that  he  ever  allowed 
his  daughter  (Claribel)  go  thither  to  marry,  since  on  the 
return  he  has  lost  his  son.  His  brother  Sebastian  retorts 
that  he  may  thank  himself  for  this  bad  result  since  he 
would  not  allow  his  daughter  to  marry  in  Europe  —  but 
the  good  counselor  chides  Sebastian  for  this  severity  and 
then  expatiates  in  a  scheme  of  beneficence  —  which  if  he 
were  king  would  be  developed  on  that  very  island. 

MuKDEK  Planned. 

Just  at  that  time  Ariel  plays  solemn  music,  which 
causes  them  to  be  drowsy,  and  all  but  two  fall  asleep. 
These  two  are  Sebastian,  brother  of  the  false  kini?  of 
Naples,  and  Antonio,  the  treacherous  brother  of  Pros- 
pero.  The  latter  then  proposes  to  the  former  that  he  kill 
the  king  and  thus  inherit  the  crown,  since  the  son  is 
drowned.  He  urges  Sebastian  to  this  crime  —  his  secret 
object  being  to  become  released  from  the  tribute  he  is 
required  to  pay. 

Sebastian  is  encouraged  to  the  deed  by  the  success  of 
Antonio  in  supplanting  Prospero,  and  Antonio  adds  that 
he  had  no  occasion  to  regret  it.  Sebastian  then  refers  to 
the  power  of  conscience.  Antonio  replies  that  it  did  not 
trouble  him,  and  then  renews  his  urgency,  saying  "  your 


The  Tempest.  435 

brotlier  lies  there  and  three  inches  of  steel  can  put  him 
to  rest  forever,"  cOiid  adds  that  the  others  will  submit  to 
the  event.  Sebastian  then  asks  Antonio  to  draw  and  stab 
the  good  counselor,  Gonzalo,  while  he  himself  stabs  the 
king. 

Narrow  Escape, 

Just  as  they  are  about  to  commit  this  double  murder, 
Ariel  enters,  and  though  invisible  to  the  conspirators,  ex- 
claims that  his  master  has  discovered  the  danger  and  sent 
him  to  the  rescue.  He  wakens  the  good  counselor  and 
also  the  false  king,  Alonso,  who  is  astonished  to  see  the 
two  men  with  drawn  swords.  Sebastian  endeavors  to  ex- 
plain by  saying  that  they  had  heard  tlie  bellowing  of 
some  wild  animal  and  were  on  guard.  The  good  coun- 
selor then  suggests  that  they  leave  that  spot,  and  Alonso, 
says  he  wants  a  further  search  made  for  his  lost  son. 

The  scene  then  changes,  and  we  have  a  view  of  the 
man-monster,  Caliban,  bearing  a  burden  of  wood,  and  at 
the  same  time  cursing  his  master  in  the  most  malignant 
manner. 

While  thus  engaged  the  two  worthless  fellows,  Trin- 
culo  and  Stej)hano,  appear,  and  the  former  expresses  his 
astonishment  on  seeing  Caliban.  Stephano,  who  has  a 
bottle  in  his  hand  and  is  evidently  under  its  influence, 
begins  a  song.  They  then  speak  to  Caliban  and  give  him 
a  taste  from  the  bottle,  and  he  swears  to  be  their  subject 
and  to  show  them  the  best  parts  of  the  island.  He  prom- 
ises to  dig  pig  nuts  for  them  and  catch  young  sea  gulls, 
with  other  luxuries,  and  he  asks  them  to  follow  him. 
They  do  so,  and  he  leads,  at  the  same  time  singing  in  great 
glee  for  he  hopes  to  escape  from  his  master. 

The  scene  now  changes  again  and  we  behold  Prospero's 
abode,  where  Ferdinand  (the  false  king  Alonso's  son)  is 
carrying  a  log.     He  does  this  in  a  very  patient  manner, 


436  OuK  Book. 

consoling  himself  with  the  thought  that  love  renders  his 
labor  pleasant,  and  that  though  he  is  ordered  to  move 
thousands  of  logs  be  is  refreshed  by  Miranda's  words. 
Miranda  then  enters,  and  desires  her  lover  not  to  work  so 
hard  and  offers  to  assist  him  in  the  heavy  task.  They 
then  engage  in  conversation  of  a  tender  character,  and 
each  avows  the  strongest  affection,  which  Prospero,  be- 
holding from  a  distance,  fully  approves. 

Another  Scene. 

We  next  behold  the  two  tipplers,  Trincnlo  and  Ste 
phano,  with  Caliban  — -  tlie  latter  bearing  the  bottle  — 
Stephano  imagines  that  he  and  his  companions  are  the  only 
ones  saved  from  the  wreck.  Caliban  immediately  sug- 
gests that  they  kill  Prospero,  and  offers  to  conduct  them 
to  him  while  he  (Prospero)  is  asleep,  at  which  time  they 
can  easily  knock  him  on  the  head.  Stephano  seems  to 
have  the  advantage  of  Trincnlo,  and  he  announces  his 
purpose  of  killing  Prospero  and  becoming  king  of  the 
island,  with  Miranda  for  queen  and  Trinculo  and  Caliban 
as  viceroys.     Trinculo  assents  and  Caliban  is  very  happy. 

SmjDEN  Change. 

Just  as  they  are  giving  utterance  to  their  glee  in  a 
comic  song  Ariel  plays  on  a  tabor  the  tune  of  the  very 
song  they  are  singing.  They  are  so  astonished  by  this 
supernatural  music  that  their  voices  are  hushed,  and  in- 
stead of  glee  they  are  filled  with  horror,  while  at  the 
same  time  conscience  begins  to  work.  Trinculo  exclaims, 
"O,  forgive  me  my  sins,"  while  Stephano' s  cry  is  for 
mercy.  Caliban  reassures  them  by  saying  the  isle  is  full 
of  noises,  some  of  which  are  very  lovely,  and  Stephano 
then  repeats  his  anticipation  of  triumph,  which  Caliban 
says  will  be  complete  as  soon  as  Prospero  is  slain.     The 


The  Tempkst.  437 

reader  cannot  but  notice  the  general  complication  of 
deviltry  this  play  reveals  —  and  yet  it  will  be  made  to 
yield  a  beneficial  result. 

Bad  men  in  Trouble. 

The  next  scene  reveals  the  rest  of  the  rescued  party, 
and  the  good  counselor,  Gonzalo,  exclaims  that  he  "is 
weary  with  the  maze  which  they  have  trodden  and  can 
go  no  farther."  The  false  king,  Alonso,  also  is  weary, 
and  says  he  will  henceforth  resign  all  hope  of  his  son, 
who  is  drowned,  and  it  is  of  no  use  to  seek  him  any  more. 

The  usurper,  Antonio,  then  says  (aside)  to  the  king 
Alonso's  brother,  Sebastian,  that  this  discouragement  is 
a  good  sign,  and  that  their  purpose  to  kill  him  (Alonso) 
must  be  carried  out.  Sebastian  replies  that  he  will  im- 
prove the  next  opportunity.  Antonio  says  it  should  be 
done  that  very  night,  as  fatigue  renders  them  easier  vic- 
tims. Sebastian  replies  "  to-night."  Just  then  solemn 
music  is  heard,  and  Prospero  is  there,  but  invisible  to  the 
conspirators.  Several  strange  looking  shapes  appear, 
bringing  in  a  banquet,  to  which  they  invite  the  false  king, 
Alonso,  and  then  they  disappear.  The  king  objects  to 
eating,  but  the  good  counselor,  Gonzalo,  encourages  him 
by  saying  that  these  strange  shapes  are  in  their  manner 
more  kind  and  gentle  than  many,  if  not  most,  of  man- 
kind. Prospero  says  (aside)  "  this  is  true,  for  some  of  you 
present  are  worse  than  devils."  The  false  king,  Alonso, 
then  says  he  will  eat,  and  he  invites  the  others  to  partake 
with  him ;  he  also  says  "  no  matter  even  it  be  his  last 
food,  since  the  best  is  past  " —  i.  e.,  his  son  is  dead. 

Startling   Manifestations. 
Just  as  they  begin  to  eat  thunder  and  lightning  terrifies 
them   and   the   banquet    disappears.       The   bewildering 


438  Cue  Book. 

amazement  with  which  thej  are  overwhelmed,  added  to 

hunger  and  fatigue,  has  brought  them  into  a  fitting  frame 

to  receive  a  full  view  of  Divine  anger  for  their  crimes,  and 

Ariel  then  appears  and  utters  the  fearful  denunciation. 

You  are  three  men  of  sin!     You  three 
From  Milan  did  supplant  good  Prospero; 
Exposed  unto  the  sea  him  and  his  innocent  child, 
For  which  foul  deed  the  powers  iiave 
Incensed  the  seas  and  shores  against  your  peace. 

He  specially  addresses  to  the  false-hearted  king,  Alonso, 
the  fearful  message  that  it  is  for  this  crime  that  he  is  be- 
reaved of  his  son,  and  he  adds,  as  a  final  sentence,  that 
they  shall  suffer  lingering  perdition,  worse  than  immedi- 
ate death,  wandering  around  the  desolate  island.  He  also 
adds,  at  the  close,  that  nothing  (;an  save  them  but  "heart 
sorrow ''  (repentance)  and  a  "  clear  life  ensuing,"  or  refor- 
mation for  the  future. 

This  tremendous  indictment  seems  to  be  enforced  by 
supernatural  power.  It  is  like  the  language  of  the  prophet 
to  the  guilty  king,  '•  thou  art  the  man  ! "  It  awakens  a 
fearful  sense  of  guilt,  and  this  being  accomplished  Ariel 
disappears,  and  Prospero  says  (aside)  that  his  charms  work 
well  and  his  enemies  are  all  distracted.  This  is  shown  by 
the  horror-stricken  countenance  of  Alonso,  the  false  king 
of  Naples,  which  startles  the  good  counselor,  Gonzalo, 
and  he  utters  his  sui-prise.  The  false  king  pays  no  atten- 
tion to  the  counselor.  His  mind  is  occupied  by  his  own 
terrible  emotions. 

His  conscience  is  fearfully  aroused  — his  horrible  crime 

is  brought  before  him  in  all  its  atrocity  and  he  exclaims  : 

0,  'tis  monstrous !     Monstrous ! 
Methought  the  billows  spoke  and  told  me  of  it; 
The  winds  did  sing  it  unto  me  ;  and  the  thunder, 
That  deep  and  dreadful  organ  pipe,  pronounced 
The  name  of  Prospero. 

Thus  showino'  that  his  conscience  had  been  awakened 


TuE  Tempest.  439 

during  tlie  recent  storm ;  then  he  recalls  his  great  bereave- 
ment and  utters  his  acknowledgment  of  penalty  : 

Therefore  my  son  in  the  ooze  is  bedded ;  and 
I'll  seek  him  deeper  than  e'er  plummet  sounded, 
And  with  Iiim  lie  mudded. 

The  reader  will  notice  the  precise  nature  of  this  imagi- 
nary reti'ibution.  As  Alonso  aided  in  drowning  Pros- 
pero  (as  he  supposed)  the  same  doom  is  meted  out  to  his 
son. 

His  equally  per tid ions  brother,  Sebastian,  feels  a  horror 
as  though  tormented  by  devils  and  exclaims : 

But  one  fiend  at  a  time ! 

I'll  fight  their  legions  o'er. 

On  the  other  hand  the  good  counselor,  Gonzalo,  who 

now  understands  the  cause  of  their  tremendous  agony, 

says: 

their  great  guilt 

Like  poison  given  to  work  a  great  time  after, 
Now  'gins  to  bite  their  spirits. 

He  fears  they  may  be  led  to  commit  suicide,  and  there- 
fore bids  the  others  watch  them. 

Beautiful  Transition. 
In  contrast  with  this  scene  of  horror  we  are  next  pre- 
sented with  the  gentle  words  of  Prospero  to  Ferdinand 
and  to  Miranda,  who  stand  before  his  cell.  He  tells  the 
young  prince  that  if  he  has  punished  him  too  severely  it 
is  to  be  followed  by  an  ample  compensation  in  the  gift 
of  his  daughter.  He  also  says  that  the  previous  severe 
discipline  was  but  a  trial  of  his  love,  and  adds  that  he 
(Ferdinand)  has  stood  the  test  in  an  unexpected  manner. 
He  then  gives  some  paternal  advice  to  the  happy  pair  and 
orders  Ariel  to  prepare  a  suitable  wedding  entertainment 
such  as  will  afford  them  a  view  of  his  (Prospero's)  power. 


440  OuE  Book. 

Prospero  then  entertains  Ferdinand  and  Miranda  with 
a  beautiful  play  gotten  up  by  Ariel,  in  which  the  rural 
deities  bear  a  leading  part,  but  Juno  also  appears  and 
pronounces  her  blessing,  and  Ceres  does  the  same.  This 
is  really  the  marriage  service,  after  which  Ferdinand  ex- 
claims : 

Let  me  live  here  ever ; 

So  rare  a  wondered  father  and  a  wife 
Make  this  place  paradise. 

Ariel's  play  continues,  and  the  naiads  and  reapers  join 
in  a  rustic  dance,  in  the  midst  of  which  Prospero  speaks 
and  the  scene  suddenly  vanishes. 

Prospero  says  (aside)  that  the  conspiracy  of  Cahban 

and  his  confederates  now  demands  his  attention,  and  then 

turning  to  Ferdinand,  exclaims  : 

Our  revels  are  now  ended ;  these  our  actors, 
As  I  foretold  you,  were  all  spirits,  and 
Are  melted  into  air  —  thin  air ; 
And  like  the  baseless  fabric  of  this  vision, 
The  cloud-capped  towers,  the  gorgeous  palaces, 
The  solemn  temples,  the  great  globe  itself, 
Yea,  all  which  it  inherit  shall  dissolve, 
And  like  this  unsubstantial  pageant  faded, 
Leave  not  a  rack  behind.     We  are  of  such  stuff 
As  dreams  are  made  of,  and  our  little  life 
Is  rounded  with  a  sleep. 

Another  Change." 

Prospero  then  informs  Ariel  that  they  must  prepare  to 
meet  Caliban  and  asks  where  he  left  them?  Ariel  re- 
plies that  they  were  "  red-hot  with  drinking,"  and  full  of 
valor,  but  that  he  had  led  them  by  his  music  through 
briars  and  thorns  that  had  pierced  their  shins,  and  at  last 
he  had  left  them  neck  deep  in  a  iilthy  pool.  Prospero 
commends  Ariel's  success,  and  then  bids  him  go  into  his 
(Prospero's)  dwelling  for  something  gaudy  as  bait  for 
them.  Ariel  brings  in  some  glittering  clothing  and  hangs 
it  on  a  line.     They  then  remain  invisible  while  Caliban 


The  Tempest.  441 

enters  accompanied  by  Trinculo  and  Stephano.  Caliban 
has  brought  tliera  thither  in  order  that  they  may  kill 
Prospero  while  he  is  asleep,  and  he  therefore  says,  "  tread 
softly,  we  are  near  his  cell." 

Both  Trinculo  and  Stephano  reeking  in  the  slime  of  the 
pool  bitterly  rail  at  Caliban  for  their  disgusting  condition, 
but  he  tells  them  the  benefit  they  are  to  receive  will  com- 
pensate. Trinculo  then  exclaims  that  they  had  lost  their 
bottles  in  the  pool.  Caliban  replies  by  asking  Stephano 
to  be  quiet  since  they  are  at  the  very  mouth  of  the  cell 
which  he  (Stephano)  must  enter  and  do  that  murderous 
deed  which  will  make  him  king  of  the  island.  Stephano 
avows  his  bloody  purpose,  but  just  then  Trinculo  spies 
the  glittering  apparel  and  calls  "  King  Stephano  "  to  see 
what  a  wardrobe  is  ready  for  him,  Caliban  expostulates 
and  says  he  must  do  the  murder  first  or  Prospero  will 
awake  and  torment  them.  Stephano  however  is  so  fasci- 
nated by  the  tinsel  garments  that  he  replies,  "  be  quiet, 
monster !  "  and  proceeds  to  strip  the  line  of  all  but  one 
garment  left  for  Caliban,  who  refuses  it  and  says,  "  we 
shall  lose  our  time,"  and  then  exclaims,  "  let  it  alone 
thou  fool,  it  is  only  trash!  "  Stephano,  however,  orders 
him  to  carry  it  oif  or  he  will  turn  him  out  of  his  kingdom. 

In  the  midst  of  this  scheme  for  plunder  and  murder, 
Prospero  and  Ariel  appear  with  a  number  of  spirits  in  the 
shape  of  hounds  which  chase  the  conspirators.  Prospero 
says,  "  let  them  be  hunted  soundly,"  and  then  he  adds, 
"  at  this  hour,  lie  at  my  mercy  all  my  enemies.' ' 

The  Last  Act. 
The  grand  consummation  now  rapidly  develops,  and 
Prospero  thus  congratulates  himself  on  approaching  suc- 
cess : 

Now  does  my  project  gather  to  a  head ; 
My  charms  crack  not;  my  spirits  obey,  and  time 
Goes  upright  with  his  carriage. 
56 


442  OuE  Book. 

He  then  inquires  of  Ariel  concerning  the  king  of 
Naples  and  his  attendants,  and  the  reply  is  as  follows : 

They  cannot  budge  till  you  release.     The  king, 
His  brother  and  yours — all  three  distracted; 
And  the  remainder  mourning  over  them, 
Brimful  of  sorrow  and  dismay; 
If  you  beheld  them  your  affections 
Would  become  tender. 

Prosper©  then  asks,  "  Dost  thou  think  so  I"  and  the  re- 
ply is 

Mine  would,  sir,  were  I  human. 

We  now  reach  the  finest  point  in  the  whole  play,  for 
Prosper©  has  avowed  his  intention  of  a  complete  forgive- 
ness, which  is  thus  beautifully  expressed. 

And  mine  shall. 
Hast  thou  (which  art  but  air)  a  feeling 
Of  their  afflictions  —  and  shall  not  myself, 
One  of  their  kind  —  be  kindlier  moved  than  thou? 

At  the  same  time  he  has  a  clear  and  unabated  sense  of 
their  crimes,  for  he  adds : 

Though  with  their  high  wrongs  I  am  struck  to  the  quick. 
Yet  with  my  nobler  reason,  gainst  my  fury 
Do  I  take  part, —  they,  being  penitent. 
The  sole  drift  of  my  purpose  doth  extend 
Not  a  frown  farther.     Oo  release  them,  Ariel  I 

While  Ariel  is  gone  to  fulfil  this  grand  act  of  mercy, 
Prospero  seems  overcome  with  a  view  of  the  termination 
of  his  supernatural  powers.  He  is  conscious  that  this  gift 
having  accomphshed  all  for  which  it  was  bestowed,  is 
now  to  be  surrendered,  and  he,  therefore,  addresses  a 
tender  and  touching  farewell  to  the  spirits  which  have 
served  him  —  apostrophising  thus  : 

Ye  elves  of  hills,  brooks,  standing  lakes  and  groves, 
And  ye  that  on  the  sands  with  printless  foot 
Do  chase  the  ebbing  Neptune 
By  my  so  potent  art. 

He  adds  that  after  one  more  charm  shall  have  been 
performed,  he  will  renounce  his  magic. 


The  Tempest.  443 

The  cliarni  referred  to  is  performed  when  Ariel  re-en- 
ters, bringing  the  good  counselor,  Gonzalo,  and  the  false 
king,  Alonso,  with  all  the  other  wicked  and  conscience- 
smitten  captives.  Prospero  then  addresses  each,  begin- 
ning with  a  tribute  to  the  counselor : 

Holy  Gonzalo,  honorable  man; 

My  true  preserver  and  u  loyal  sir 

To  him  tliou  follow'st,   I  will  pay  thy  graces 

Both  by  word  and  deed. 

Then  turning  to  the  false  king  Alonso,  he  exclaims: 

Most  cruelly 
Didst  thou,  Alonzo,  use  me  and  my  daughter. 
Thy  brother  (Sebastian)  was  a  furtherer  in  the  act. 

Addressing  the  latter, 

Thou'rt  pinched  for  it  now,  Sebastian. 

Then  turning  to  his  own  brother,  Antonio,  the  usurper 

Flesh  and  blood, 
Thou  brother  mine  that  entertained  ambition, 
Expelled  remorse  and  nature.     Who  with  Sebastian, 
(Whose  inward  pinches  therefore  art  most  strong), 
Would  here  have  killed  your  king — 
I  do  forgive  thee!  unnatural  though  thou  art. 

Prospero  then  more  fully  makes  himself  known  by  re- 
suming his  costume  as  Duke  of  Milan,  and  then  thus  ad- 
dresses the  false  king  of  Naples  : 

Behold,  sir  king, 
The  wronged  Duke  of  Milan,  Prospero! 
For  more  assurance  that  a  living  prince 
Doth  speak  to  thee,  I  embrace  thy  body, 
And  to  thee  and  thy  company 
I  bid  a  hearty  welcome. 

As  he  says  this,  he  embraces  the  false  king,  whose  re- 
morse abates  as  these  words  of  mercy  are  heard,  and  he 

exclaims — 

I  do  entreat 
Thou  pardon  me  my  wrong  1 

Prospero  then  embraces  the  good  counselor,  Gonzalo, 

and  next  turning  to  his  wicked  brother,  Antonio,  and  to 

the  base   confederate,  Sebastian,  he  tells  them  that  he 

could  expose  them  to  king  Alonzo  for  their  attempt  to 


444  Our  Book. 

murder  him  (the  king)  which  he  (Prospero)  liad  foiled. 

Sebastian  is  so  astonished  to  find  iiis  purpose  exposed  that 

he  says  (aside),  ''  the  devil  speaks  in  him." 

Prospero  then  again  addresses  his  false  brotlier  Antonio. 

For  you  most  wicked  sir,  whom  to  call  brother, 
Would  even  infect  my  mouth,  Idofcrrgive. 

The  false  king  of  ITaples,  whose  great  sorrow  is  the 
loss  of  his  son,  again  refers  to  this  crushing  bereavement, 
when  suddenly  the  door  of  Prospero's  cell  opens  and  they 
behold  Ferdinand  and  Miranda  playing  chess.  Ferdi- 
nand discerning  his  father  comes  forward  and  kneels  to 
him  in  token  of  affection.  A  general  astonishment  per- 
vades the  whole  group.  The  false  king  asks  concerning 
Miranda,  and  the  son  replies  : 

Sir,  she's  mortal, 
But  by  immortal  Providence  she's  mine. 

The  astonished  father  is  so  overwhelmed  by  the  good- 
ness of  Prospero  that  he  again  attempts  confession,  but 

Prospero  replies  : 

There,  stop,  sir. 
Let  us  not  burden  our  memories 
"With  a  heaviness  that's  gone. 
The  good  counselor,  Gonzalo,  then  pronounces  a  bene- 
diction thus : 

Look  down,  ye  gods, 
And  on  this  couple  drop  a  blessed  crown ; 
For  'tis  you  that  have  chalked  the  way 
Which  brought  us  hither. 

Later  on  Gonzalo  thus  expresses  his  perception  of  the 

vast  benefit  derived  from  this  strange  series  of  occurrences: 

Was  Milan  thrust  from  Milan  that  his  issue 

Should  become  King  of  Naples?     O,  rejoice 

Beyond  a  common  joy;  and  set  it  down 

With  gold  on  lasting  pillars.     In  one  voyage         * 

Did  Claribel  her  husl)and  find  in  Tunis 

And  Ferdinand,  her  brother,  found  a  wife 

Where  he  himself  was  lost ;  Prospero,  his  dukedom 

In  a  poor  isle;  and  all  of  ourselves 

When  no  man  was  his  own. 


The  Tempest.  445 

Amid  all  these  tender  and  touching  congratulations 
Ariel  enters  with  the  boatswain  and  master  of  the  ship, 
who  report  the  vessel  in  as  good  condition  as  when  they 
left  port  —  this  having  been  done  by  Ariel.  The  boat- 
swain then  describes  this  shipwreck  and  adds  it  was  all 
like  a  dream.  The  false  king  Alonzo — now  repentant — 
exclaims  : 

This  is  as  strange  a  maze  as  e'er  man  trod, 
And  there  is  in  this  business  more  than  nature, 
Some  oracle  must  rectify  our  knowledge. 

Prospero  thus  replies : 

Do  not  infest  your  mind  with 

The  strangeness  of  this  business, 

At  leisure  I'll  resolve  you  of 

These  happy  accidents  —  till  when 

Be  cheerful  and  think  of  each  thing  well. 

Prospero  then  gives  another  command  to  Ariel : 
Set  Caliban  and  his  companions  free. 

Ariel  then  brings  in  Caliban,  together  with  Trinculo 
and  Stephano  dressed  in  their  stolen  apparel.  Prospero 
sarcastically  addresses  the  latter  "  You'd  be  the  king  of 
the  island,  sirrah  !  "  then  pardons  the  entire  trio,  which 
immediately  makes  its  exit  —  prior  to  which,  however 
Caliban  promises  obedience  and  says,  "  I  will  be  wise 
hereafter  and  seek  for  grace.' '  Prospero  next  invites  the 
others  to  his  cell  where  they  will  pass  the  night,  promis- 
ing to  unfold  the  history  of  this  whole  affair,  and  specially 
his  life  on  the  isle.  He  adds  that  to-morrow  they  will 
all  sail  for  home,  and  that  thenceforth  every  third  thought 
will  be  his  grave.  Then  he  releases  Ariel  from  all  duty 
(except  to  assist  in  auspicious  gales)  and  says  as  they 
part  — "  be  free  and  fare  thou  well !  " 

The  author's  Purpose. 
It  seems  to  me  that   Shakespeare  must  have  deeply 
meditated  on  the  Divine  purpose  in  permitting  evil,  and 


446  OuE  Book. 

that  lie  intended  this  drama  as  a  partial  elucidation  of  his 
views.  It  brings  before  us  the  apostolic  precept :  "  Be 
not  overcome  with  evil,  but  overcome  evil  with  good," 
and  Prospero's  treatment  of  the  conspirators  reminds  one 
of  Joseph  and  liis  brethren.  The  Tempest  is,  therefore, 
a  dramatic  sermon  showing  how  God  can  turn  the  wick- 
edness of  man  to  good  account,  and  without  abating  its 
malignity  can  meet  it  with  pardon.  Mutual  forgiveness 
is  a  natural  consequence,  and  it  would  seem  that  Mac- 
ready  had  fully  mastered  this  lesson  when  he  left  on 
record  the  following  utterance :  "  Never  show  hostility 
until  you  have  the  power  to  crush,  and  then  use  it  only 
to  prove  a  better  nature  than  your  antagonist."  Macready 
was  probably  the  most  irritable  play  actor  of  his  day,  but 
he  had  some  noble  points  of  character. 

Other  Aspects. 

To  return  to  the  Tempest,  it  may  also  be  mentioned 
that  Prospero  is,  in  some  points,  a  picture  of  Shakespeare 
himself  in  his  latter  days.  See  how  domestic  he  has  be- 
come !  He  is  a  father  protecting  a  daughter,  and  while 
willing  to  yield  her  up  in  wedlock,  to  her  lover  he  adds 
kind  yet  penetrative  warnings  to  the  latter.  The  sustain- 
ing power  of  a  daughter's  affection  is  also  manifest,  as 
Prospero  says  to  Miranda : 

O,  a  cherubim 
Thou  wast  that  didst  preserve  me. 

The  author's  contemplated  farewell  to  his  life-work,  is 
also  suggested  by  Prospero's  purpose : 

This  rough  magic 
I  here  abjure.     I  break  my  staff, 
And  deeper  than  ever  plummet  sounded, 
I'll  drown  my  book. 

The  closing  of  life,  indeed,  seems  suggested,  not  only 
73 


The  Tempest.  447 

by  the  fading  of  "  the  cloud-capped  towers,"  but  also  in 
the  words : 

And  thence  retire  me  to  Milan,  where 
Every  third  thought  shall  be  my  grave. 

In  this  sad  and  plaintive  manner  the  great  dramatist 
seems  to  resign  his  office  as  though  conscious  that  his  time 
was  near  at  hand.  True  enough,  he  was  soon  afterward 
removed  by  sudden  death  on  his  fifty-second  birthday 
(according  to  tradition),  the  date  being  April  16,  1616. 

The  Epilogue. 
In  Love's  Labor  Lost  Shakespeare  gives  us  his  idea  of 
the  nature  of  such  an  address,  for  he  calls  it  "  an  epilogue 
or  discourse  to  make  plain  some  obscure  precedence 
that  hath  been  said."  It  is  evident,  therefore,  that  the 
epilogue  to  the  Tempest  is  to  be  viewed  in  this  explana- 
tory character,  and  after  the  play  is  finished  Prospero  ap- 
pears and  speaks  as  follows : 

Now  my  charms  are  all  o'erthrown 
And  wliat  strength  I  liave's  mine  own; 
Which  is  most  faint :  now  'tis  true, 
I  must  be  here  confined  by  you. 
Or  sent  to  Naples.     Let  me  not 
Since  I  have  my  dukedom  got, 
And  pardon'd  the  deceiver  dwell 
In  this  island  —  by  your  spell: 
But  release  me  from  my  bands 
With  the  help  of  your  good  hands. 
Gentle  breath  of  yours,  my  sails 
Must  fill,  or  else  my  project  fails, 
Which  was  to  please.     Now  I  want 
Spirits  to  enforce,  art  to  enchant, 
And  my  ending  is  despair, 
Unless  I  be  relieved  by  prayer: 
Which  pierces  so  that  it  assaults 
Mercy  itself,  and  frees  from  faults. 
As  you  from  crimes  would  pardoti'd  Je, 
Let  your  indulgence  set  me  free. 

Personal  Plea. 
Under  this  remarkable  presentation  of  God's  power  to 
bring  good  out  of  evil  there  dwells  the  purpose  of  the 


448  Our  Book. 

author  to  turn  it  to  his  own  account  as  a  personal  plea. 
Being  deeply  conscious  of  sin  he  felt  the  need  of  full 
forgiveness.  He  had  as  deeply  wronged  his  wife  and 
family  as  the  usurper  had  wronged  Prospero,  and  hence 
if  the  former  was  forgiven,  he  too  might  hope  for  mercy, 
both  human  and  Divine. 

Tliis  most  impressively  recalls  the  epilogue  which 
seems  to  clinch  the  point.  I  am  much  surprised  that 
Richard  Grant  White  should  deny  the  authenticity  of 
this  epilogue,  which  in  my  opinion  is  the  key  note 
of  the  whole  drama.  White  says  "it  was  probably 
written  by  Ben  Jonson."  I  mentioned  this  to  Mr.  Saun- 
ders, assistant  hbrarian  of  the  Astor  library,  as  we  were 
examining  the  edition  of  1623,  and  he  replied,  "  Ben 
Jonson  never  wrote  it.  It  is  Shakespeare's  utterance. 
This  is  what  Ben  Jonson  wrote,"  and  he  then  pointed  to 
the  lines  under  Shakespeare's  efBgy,  signed  B.  I.  Mr. 
Saunders'  profound  acquaintance  with  old  English  litera- 
ture renders  him  better  authority  on  this  point  than 
White,  and  if  I  err  at  all,  I  am  certainly  in  good  com- 
pany. 

Shakespeare  Speaks. 

Shakespeare,  speaking  through  Prospero,  seeks  mercy 
and  sympatliy,  being  evidently  conscious  that  life's  work 
is  done,  and  that  his  flights  of  genius  are  at  an  end.  He 
deprecates  the  claims  of  justice,  making  Prospero  to  say, 
"  I  must  be  here  confined  —  or  sent  to  Naples."  The 
first  were  imprisonment  and  the  second  banishment,  and 
as  Prospero  deserved  neither,  it  is  evident  that  the  poet  is 
here  speaking  for  himself.  The  plea  that  he  has  forgiven 
others  is  urged  in  his  own  behalf.  His  purpose,  if  life 
be  prolonged,  is  to  please — or  live  for  others;  but  he 
feels  his  own  deficiency.     Then  comes  the  awful  view 


TiiK  Tempest.  449 

which  conscience  reveals  of  the  penalty  of  sin,  to  which 
is  added  the  only  hope  that  could  afford  relief  : 

And  my  ending  is  despair, 
Unless  I  be  relieved  by  prayer. 

And  all  the  prevailing  nature  of  the  latter  is  power- 
fully shown  by  the  lines  that  follow : 

Which  pierces  so  that  it  assaults, 
Mercy  itself  and  frees  from  faults. 

Then  comes  the  appeal  to  all  whom  he  may  have  in- 
jured, in  view  of  their  own  need  of  pardon  : 

As  you  from  crimes  would  pardon'd  be, 
Let  your  indulgence  set  me  free. 

Such  a  plea  as  this  can  only  be  answered  by  full  for- 
giveness, and  it  is  evident  that  this  was  required  in  order 
to  relieve  conscience.  Taking  this  view  of  the  Tempest, 
how  grand  and  solemn  its  lessons  appear  —  and,  reader,  I 
now  submit  the  question  whether  this  interpretation  does 
not  clear  up  that  mystery  which  some  have  found  in 
its  pages. 

Stage  Performance. 

That  the  Tempest  was  but  lightly  esteemed  in  John- 
son's day  is  shown  by  the  fact  that  it  is  not  mentioned 
even  once  by  Boswell. 

It  was  first  used  as  a  musical  entertainment,  and  the 

entire  play  was  never  performed  until  Macready  brought 

it  out  in  London,  and  then  it  had  a  very  respectable  run  — 

as  one  may  learn  from  the  following  extract  from  his 

diary,  June  13,  1839  : 

The  last  night  (the  55th)  of  the  Tempest  was  crowded.  I  felt 
quite  melancholy  as  we  approached  the  end  of  the  play.  It  had 
become  endeared  to  me  by  success.  I  was  called  for  and  well 
received.  I  look  back  on  its  production  with  satisfaction,  for  it 
has  given  the  public  one  of  Shakespeare's  plays  which  had  never 
been  seen  before,  and  it  has  proved  the  charm  of  simplicity  and 
poetry. 

57 


460  Our  Book. 

The  Tempest  lias  been  played  during  several  seasons  in 
Kew  York,  and  is  also  a  favorite  theme  with  some  public 
readers.  The  lirst  reference  to  it  in  this  country  I  find 
in  the  travels  of  John  Davis,  who  taught  school  in  Vir- 
ginia in  1800.  He  found  a  copy  of  Shakespeare  and 
taught  a  young  maiden  to  read  it.  Here  is  his  sketch  of 
her  success : 

I  shall  not  easily  forget  the  feeling  with  which  my  pupil  read 
aloud  that  beautiful  and  natural  scene  in  the  Tempest  where 
Miranda  sympathises  with  Ferdinand  who  is  bearing  logs  to  Pros 
l)ero's  cell.  No  seene  can  be  more  exquisitely  tender,  and  no  lips 
could  give  juster  utterauce  to  Miranda's  words  than  those  of  my 
fair  disciple.  I  was  transported  into  fairy  land.  I  was  rapt  in  a 
delicious  dream  from  which  it  was  misery  to  be  wakened  —  and 
what  Ferdinand  exclaimed  on  hearing  the  music  of  Ariel  I  applied 
in  secret  to  the  voice  of  my  pupil : 

There  is  no  mortal  business,  nor  no  sound 
That  the  earth  owns. 

The  teacher  must  have  really  been  in  love,  and  as  he 
was  obliged  to  leave  for  New  York  he  carried  with  him 
this  charming  reminiscence. 


NATIONAL. 

Why  did  not  our  forefathers  call  their  chief  legislative 
body  "parliament"  after  the  British  custom?  Why  did 
they  on  the  other  hand  use  the  word  "  congress"  ?  These 
queries  have  led  me  to  consider  the  statement  made  by 
John  Adams,  "that  there  were  four  things  which  ensured 
the  independence  of  the  colonies.  One  was  the  public 
school  and  another  was  town  meeting.  The  third  was 
training  day  and  the  fourth  was  the  congregational  form 
of  church  government."  I  think  that  congress  comes 
from  the  latter,  for  though  the  root  be  different,  the  ap- 
plication is  the  same.     The  ancient  New  England  people 


National.  451 

"congregated"  for  church  rule,  ard  hence,  wlien  they 
met  for  national  government  they  called  it  a  Congress. 

The  first  Instance. 

In  1690  a  committee  of  seven,  representing  Massa- 
chusetts Bay,  Connecticut  and  New  York  met  in  New 
York,  to  form  a  combined  effort  against  the  French  and 
Indians.  This  committee  has  sometiraess  been  called  a 
"  congress,"  but  seems  hardly  worthy  of  that  name. 

The  first  real  Congress  was  the  assemblage  ordered  by 
the  British  government,  which  in  1753,  became  alarmed 
by  the  increasing  influence  of  the  French  who  obtained 
control  of  so  many  Indian  tribes  that  they  had  become 
highly  dangerous  to  British  America.  The  home  govern" 
ment,  therefore,  requested  the  provinces  (or  colonies)  to 
appoint  commissioners  to  meet  in  some  place  of  their  own 
choice,  the  object  being  to  treat  with  the  Indians,  and 
the  government  in  its  message  to  the  commissioners, 
speaks  as  follows : 

This  leads  us  to  recommend  one  thing  more  to  your  attention, 
and  that  is  to  take  care  tliat  all  the  provinces  be,  if  jaracticable, 
comprised  in  one  general  treaty  to  be  made  in  his  Majesty's  name — 
it  appearing  that  the  practice  of  each  province  making  a  separate 
treaty  in  its  ovpn  name  is  very  improper. 

It  is  evident  that  a  general  union  was  first  suggested 
by  the  British,  for  though  the  New  England  colonies  had 
at  one  time  formed  a  union,  it  was  only  a  temporary 
arrangement.  In  pursuance  of  this  order  the  colonies 
appointed  delegates  and  chose  Albany  as  the  place  of 
meeting,  giving  preference  to  the  summer  because  the 
roads  were  more  available  than  at  any  other  season. 

The  Meeting. 
On  the  19th  of  June,  1754,  the  Congress  met  in  the 
Albany  court-house,   the    number    being    twenty -three. 


452  OuE  Book. 

l^ew  York  was  represented  by  the  regular  colonial  coun- 
cil, four  in  number,  the  most  prominent  being  Johnson — 
afterwards  Sir  "William.  The  other  colonies  were  New 
Hampshire,  Massachusetts  Bay,  Connecticut,  Rhode  Is- 
land, Pennsylvania  and  Maryland. 

The  first  business  was  to  treat  with  the  chiefs  of  the 
Six  JS^ations,  who  were  present,  and  a  spirit  of  general 
amity  was  apparent.  The  speeches  of  the  Indians  and 
the  replies  of  the  Congress  are  preserved  among  the  col- 
onial papers  at  Albany,  and  are  certainly  interesting. 

These  being  concluded,  the  Congress  proceeded  on 
the  24th  of  June  to  consider  the  proposal  for  a  union. 
Plans  were  offered  and  referred  to  a  committee  of  six, 
among  whom  were  Stej)hen  Hopkins,  of  Rhode  Island, 
and  Benjamin  Franklin  of  Pennsylvania.  Four  days 
afterwards  this  committee  distributed  short  hints  of  its 
scheme  and  the  next  day  (Judc  29th),  the  latter  was  de- 
bated, but  without  reaching  a  conclusion.  July  2d  the 
debate  was  renewed,  and  the  question  was  proposed,  shall 
we  proceed  to  form  a  plan  of  union  to  be  established  by 
act  of  Parliament.  This  was  carried  in  the  affirmative, 
and  on  the  4th  the  debate  was  renewed.  On  the  10th 
Franklin  reported  a  plan  of  union  and  this  was  read,  one 
paragraph  at  a  time,  and  each  was  debated,  and  the  entire 
plan  was  eventually  adopted. 

Feanklin's  Scheme. 

This  was  a  grand  council  to  be  elected  for  three  years, 
the  number  to  be  forty-eight.  New  York  was  to  have 
four,  and  each  of  the  Carolinas  was  to  have  the  same 
number,  but  Connecticut  was  to  have  five,  while  Virginia 
and  Massachusetts  Bay  were  each  to  have  seven.  Vacan- 
cies by  death  were  to  be  filled  by  the  council,  but  the 
home  government  was  to  appoint  a  president-general. 


National.  453 

The  council,  however,  was  to  elect  its  own  speaker,  who 
was  to  take  the  place  of  the  president-general  ad  interim 
in  case  of  the  death  of  the  latter. 

Philadelphia  was  to  be  the  place  of  meeting,  and  the 
members  were  to  receive  ten  shillings  and  mileage  at  the 
rate  of  one  day  for  each  twenty  miles,  which  was  then  a 
good  day's  travel.  The  council  was  empowered  to  raise 
troops  and  pay  them,  to  build  forts,  to  equip  vessels, 
guard  coasts  and  protect  trade  on  ocean,  lakes  and  rivers. 

Looking  at  the  details  of  the  session,  it  may  be  said 
that  this  "  Congress  "  (which  name  it  adopted)  spent  five 
days  in  Indian  affairs  (for  which  it  had  been  assembled), 
while  seventeen  days  were  devoted  to  the  plan  of  union. 
The  latter  did  not  become  popular,  for  the  colonies  ob- 
jected to  a  president-general  appointed  by  the  crown, 
while  the  latter  objected  to  giving  so  much  power  to  the 
colonies.  The  Congress  however  M\as  not  a  failure,  for 
it  led  the  public  to  contemplate  a  union  which  was  after- 
wards accomplished  in  a  far  better  manner. 

The  second  Congress. 

Eleven  years  afterward  (March  22,  1T65),  the  Stamp 
Act  was  passed  and  created  intense  excitement  through- 
out America.  The  Massachusetts  Legislature  immedi- 
ately invited  the  other  colonies  to  send  delegates  to  a 
Congress  to  be  held  in  New  York  on  the  first  Tuesday  in 
October,  and  as  the  act  was  to  go  into  operation  on  the 
first  of  November,  this  measure  was  to  utter  a  national 
protest.  Hence,  the  meeting  of  the  delegates  was  called 
the  "  Stamp  Act  Congress." 

The  whole  thirteen  colonies  spoke  in  this  assemblage, 
for  though  New  Hampshire,  Virginia,  North  Carolina 
and  Georgia  sent  no  delegates,  their  Assemblies  wrote 
that  they  would  app)rove  of  the  proceedings.     This  Con- 


454  Our  Book. 

gress  ouly  numbered  twentj-seven  men,  and  Avas  but 
fourteen  days  in  session,  but  its  proceedings  were  of  vast 
importance,  for  it  issued  the  first  declaration  of  Ameri- 
can rights,  and  also  delivered  the  united  appeal  of  the 
colonies  to  the  mother  country. 

Distinguished  Members. 

James  Otis,  the  famous  Boston  orator,  was  a  member, 
and  so  was  Philip  Livingston,  who  became  one  of  the 
signers  of  the  Declaration  of  Independence.  Robert  R. 
Livingston,  another  of  its  members,  administered  the 
inaugural  oath  to  Washington  in  the  very  same  building. 
This  Congress  issued  a  loyal  address  to  the  king,  and  also 
an  elaborate  petition  to  the  House  of  Lords,  and  another 
to  the  House  of  Commons,  but  the  effort  was  unavailing. 

These  papers  were  dated  October  19,  1765.  Yery 
strangely,  on  the  lOtli  October,  1781,  just  sixteen  years 
afterward,  Cornwallis  surrendered.  It  was  nine  years 
before  another  Congress  met,  but  the  federative  principle 
had  been  established  and  could  not  be  repressed. 

The  Third. 
The  third  was  what  is  commonly  called  "  the  old  Col- 
onial Congress."  It  was  held  in  Philadelphia,  opening 
in  September,  1774,  and  numbered  ±ifty-tive  members, 
one  of  whom  was  George  Washington.  This  Congress, 
like  the  previous  one,  issued  a  declaration  of  rights,  and  a 
protest  against  the  unjust  laws,  and  also  a  petition  to  the 
king  and  an  address  to  the  people  of  Great  Britain,  after 
which  came  the  consideration  of  colonial  affairs.  The 
Continental  Congress  continued  in  service  fifteen  years, 
and  was  then  superseded  by  our  present  form  of  govern- 
ment—  from  which  our  Congress  is  numbered.  The 
reader  will  thus  see  the  successive  steps  by  which  the 
American  Congress  became  established. 


Remarkable  Record.  455 

The  yonngest  member  of  the  stamp  act  congress  really 
left  the  most  remarkable  record.  I  refer  to  Robert  R. 
Livingston,  who  then  m^is  only  nineteen,  and  had  just 
graduated  at  King's  (afterward  Columbia)  college.  He 
became  a  New  York  lawyer  and  continued  prominent  as 
a  patriot.  He  was  a  member  of  the  Continental  con- 
gress, and  was  one  of  the  committee  on  the  Declara- 
tion of  Indpendence,  which  he  would  have  signed  had 
he  not  been  previously  called  away  by  other  duty. 
Congress  afterward  appointed  him  secretary  of  foreign 
affairs. 

He  was  member  of  the  convention  which  framed  the 
constitution  of  New  York  in  1777,  and  George  Clinton, 
the  first  governor,  appointed  him  chancellor  of  the  State. 
In  the  fulfillment  of  this  high  office,  he  administered  the 
official  oath  to  Washington  on  the  first  inauguration.  He 
was  then  forty-two,  and  the  ceremony  as  I  have  said,  took 
place  in  the  same  building  which  twenty-two  years  previ- 
ously contained  the  stamp  act  congress.  Jefferson  made 
him  ambassador  to  France,  and  while  there  he  purchased 
Louisiana  of  Napoleon.  On  his  return  home  he  assisted 
his  son-in-law  Robert  Fulton,  in  his  steamboat  enter- 
prise, and  it  was  his  capital  which  enabled  the  latter 
to  build  the  Clermont.  He  died  two  years  before 
Fulton,  and  they  rest  in  the  same  vault  in  Trinity  church 
yard. 

The  Livingstons  were  a  remarkable  family,  but 
none  of  the  rest  of  them  equaled  this  record.  His 
brother  Edward,  however,  was  also  distinguished  in  pro- 
fessional and  also  public  life,  and  was  also  ambassa- 
dor to  France  under  Jackson  — whom  he  served  as  aide- 
de-camp  at  the  battle  of  New  Orleans,  —  but  let  us 
turn  from  these  biographical  sketches  to  the  nation  it- 
self. 


456  The  First  Si-ate  Pa.per. 

The  first  paper  which  could  in  reality  be  called  a 
"  state  paper,"  was  issued  by  the  Continental  Congress  on 
the  25th  of  October,  1774.  It  was  in  the  form  of  an 
address  to  the  king  of  Great  Britain  and  was  signed  by 
Henry  Middkton,  president,  "  by  order  and  on  behalf  of 
the  congress."  It  was  enclosed  in  a  letter  to  Paul  Went- 
worth,  Benjamin  Franklin,  William  Bollen,  Arthur  Lee, 
Thomas  Life  and  Charles  Gorth,  who  were  acting  as  col- 
ony agents  in  London.  It  closed  with  the  foUo-wing 
solemn  instructions : 

We  commit  the  enclosed  paper  to  your  care.  We  desire  that 
you  will  deliver  the  petition  into  the  hands  of  his  Majesty  and 
after  it  lias  been  presented  we  wish  it  may  be  made  public  through 
the  press,  together  with  the  list  of  grievances. 

Dr.  Franklin,  Mr.  Bollen  and  Mr.  Lee  alone  acted  un- 
der these  instructions.  They  carried  the  petition  to 
Lord  Dartmouth,  by  whom  it  was  laid  before  the  king. 
Happy  would  it  have  been  for  the  latter  had  the  griev- 
ances of  the  colonies  been  heard  —  bat,  the  British  gov- 
ernment was  madly  bent  on  coercion  while  the  true 
policy  would  have  been  conciliation. 

The  first  treaty  was  made  with  France,  February  6, 
1778,  and  was  a  treaty  of  alliance.  The  first  treaty  made 
after  the  organization  of  the  government  was  that  made 
with  Great  Britain,  November  19,  1794,  and  was  one  of 
"peace,  amity,  commerce  and  navigation." 

Franklin's  latest  Happiness. 
Franklin  lived  to  behold  his  idea  of  a  president,  more 
than  realized  in  Washington  the  true  president-general, 
being  commander-in-chief  of  army  and  navy.  He  had 
indeed  seen  three  methods  of  government  attempted,  but 
only  the  last  was  successful.  First  was  the  Albany  plan, 
and  next  was  the  Articles  of  Confederation,  which  were 
a  failure,  except  as  preparation  for  something  better.  The 


National.  45  T 

third  is  our  present  government.  He  bore  an  important 
part  in  the  first  and  last,  wliich  were  separated  by  an 
interval  of  thirty -three  years. 

Franklin  affords  an  impressive  example  of  greatest  use- 
fulness accomplished  in  old  age.  He  was  seventy  when 
he  signed  the  Declaration  of  Independence ;  seventy-two 
when  he  effected  the  alliance  with  France,  and  seventy- 
six  when  he  signed  the  treaty  of  peace  with  Great  Britain. 

When  seven tj^-nine,  he  was  elected  president  of  Penn- 
sylvania, and  at  eighty-two  he  served  in  the  Constitutional 
Convention.  The  election  of  Washington  found  him  in  a 
dyingbed,  butthenewsof  the  inauguration  cheered  his  last 
hours,  for  he  saw  the  fulfillment  of  his  heart's  desire. 

Pensioners  and  Presidents. 

The  proposition  to  pension  our  ex- presidents  recalls  the 
fact  thau  some  of  this  number  were  so  poor  that  their  re- 
duced condition  awoke  general  sympathy.  Monroe,  for 
instance,  was,  during  his  last  ten  years,  almost  threatened 
with  want.  When  his  poverty  became  known  a  number 
of  New  York  gentlemen  proposed  that  he  should  be 
made  postmaster  of  that  city.  To  this  proposition  the 
ex-president  made  the  following  touching  reply  : 

As  to  my  accepting  the  appointment  it  is  impossible  —  not  on 
account  of  the  grade  of  the  office,  for  I  have  accepted  that  of 
magistrate  of  this  county — but  on  account  of  the  consideration 
that  I  could  only  accept  it  with  a  view  to  emolument. 

If  the  nation  is  willing  that  an  individual  who  has  served  them 
thu^  long  and  in  the  offices  which  I  have  held,  should  be  reduced 
to  want,  (and  I  cannot  escape  that  fate  by  my  own  efforts,)  I  am 
willing  to  meet  it  rather  than  accept  any  office  to  prevent  it. 

The  extremity  of  the  ex-president's  condition  was  met 
in  the  manner  indicated  by  the  following  paragraph  taken 
from  Niles'  Eegister,  November  22,  1828  : 

A  short  time  ago  ex- President  Monroe's  family  seat  at  Albe- 
marle was  sold  to  pay  his  debts,  and  being  reduced  to  a  state  of 
poverty  he  will  make  his  home  in  New  York  with  one  of  liis 
daughters,  who  is  married  to  Samuel  L.  Governeur.     The  latter 

58 


458  Our  Book. 

has  been  appointed  postmaster  of  that  city  —  a  delicate  compli- 
ment to  the  ex-president. 

It  need  hardly  be  added  that  Monroe  died  wliile  still 
a  guest  with  his  son-in-law,  on  the  4th  of  July,  1831, 
being  then  seventy-three. 

Jefferson. 

The  case  of  this  distinguished  patriot  was  precisely 
similar.  He  became  so  poor  as  to  awaken  an  appeal  to 
national  sympathy.  In  May,  1826,  a  public  meeting  was 
held  in  New  York  for  the  purpose  of  raising  funds  in 
his  behalf,  and  a  similar  meeting  was  held  in  Boston, 
The  citizens  of  Washington  planned  a  lottery  for  the 
purchase  of  Monticello  (placing  its  value  at  $100,000),' 
with  a  view  of  presenting  it  free  of  debt  to  its  embarrassed 
proprietor. 

It  was  then  suggested  by  Niles'  Register  of  May  16, 
1826,  that  tickets  should  be  purchased  immediately  and 
held  nntil  the  4th  of  July,  on  which  day  they  should  be 
burnt  "  in  honor  of  one  who  on  that  day  50  years  before, 
pledged  his  life,  his  fortune  and  his  sacred  honor  in  de- 
fense of  American  independence."  This  was  a  very 
beautiful  idea,  but  on  that  very  day  designated  for  such 
an  offering,  the  noble  old  patriot  expired. 

Melancholy  Picture. 

I  offer  in  this  connection  the  following  letter  written 

by  Jefferson  five  months  before  his  death,  to  his  grandson. 

What  a  melancholy  picture  does  it  give  of  the  last  days 

of  so  illustrious  a  patriot : 

I  see  in  the  failure  of  my  hopes  a  deadly  blight  on  my  peace 
of  mind  during  my  remaining  days.  You  kindly  encourage  me 
to  keep  up  my  spirits,  but  oppressed  with  disease,  debility,  old 
age  and  embarrassment,  tliis  is  difficult.  For  myself  I  should  not 
regard  the  loss  of  fortune  —  but  I  am  overwhelmed  at  the  con- 
dition in  which  I  shall  leave  my  family  —  my  dearly  beloved 
daughter,  the  companion  and  nurse  of  my  age,  and  her  children. 


National.  459 

My  difficulties  have  been  occasioned  in  part  by  my  own  unskill- 
ful management  and  by  my  devoting  my  time  to  the  service  of 
the  country,  in  addition  to  the  depression  of  farming  interests. 
I  had  hoped  to  pay  my  debts  and  retain  Monticello;  but  wliere 
there  are  no  buyers  property,  however  great,  is  no  security  for  the 
payment  of  debts  —  all  may  go  for  little  or  notliing. 

Perhaps,  however,  in  this  case  I  have  no  right  to  complain.  I 
acknowledge  that  I  have  gone  through  a  long  life  with  less  afflic- 
tion than  is  the  lot  of  most  men,  and  should  this  last  request  be 
granted,  I  may  yet  close  with  a  cloudless  sun,  a  long  and  serene 
day  of  life. 

Such  is  the  utterance  of  the  author  of  the  Declaration 
of  Independence  in  his  eighty-fourth  year.  What  an  ex- 
ample of  dignity  and  resignation ! 

Washington's  Inaugukation. 

The  crowd  which  witnessed  the  first  inauguration  in- 
cluded an  unusual  gathering  of  illustrious  patriotism. 
The  balcony  of  Federal  Hall  contained  Baron  Steuben, 
Roger  Sherman  and  George  Chnton — the  war  governor 
of  our  State  during  the  Revolution  —  together  with  Col. 
Willett,  Alexander  Hamilton,  James  Madison  and  others 
of  distinction.  John  Adams,  who  had  previously  taken 
the  oath  as  vice-president,  stood  on  Washington's  right 
and  on  the  left  was  Robert  Livingston.  The  latter,  though 
chancellor  of  the  State,  was  only  forty-two,  while  Wash- 
ington was  fifty-seven.  Livingston  was  a  native  of  New 
York,  and  was  afterward  minister  to  France,  where  he 
made  the  purchase  of  Louisiana.  Fulton  married  his 
daughter,  and  thus  obtained  a  patronage  which  carried 
the  steamboat  project  into  success.  How  remai'kable  that 
the  man  who  on  inauguration  day  administered  the  oath 
to  Washino;ton  should  be  the  means  of  launching^  the  first 
really  successful  steamboat.  Among  those  present  were 
two  subsequent  presidents —  John  Adams  and  James 
Madison,  and  two  others  who  afterward  became  vice- 
presidents,  Aaron  Burr  and  George  Clinton.     The  ages 


460  Our  Book. 

of  the  officers  of  the  newly-formed  govei'ument  were  as 
follows :  The  president,  fifty-seven ;  the  vice-president, 
fifty-four ;  secretary  of  war,  Gen.  Knox,  thirty-nine ; 
secretary  of  the  treasury,  Hamilton,  thirty-three;  John 
Jay,  judge  of  the  supreme  court,  forty-four,  Jefferson, 
who  soon  afterward  became  secretary  of  state,  was  forty- 
six,  while  James  Madison,  then  a  member  of  Congress, 
was  thirty-eight.     What  an  historic  assemblage ! 

Remestiscences  of  the  Occasion. 

Washington  was  a  man  of  profound  feelings  and  hence 
the  memories  suggested  by  his  inauguration  must  have 
been  of  an  intense  character,  Withiu  stone  cast  were  the 
ruins  of  old  Trinity,  destroyed  during  the  conflagration, 
which  occurred  so  soon  after  the  hurried  retreat  of 
the  Continental  army,  and  the  new  church  was  hardly  com- 
pleted. Within  its  precincts  was  the  grave  of  Lord  Stir- 
ling, one  of  the  ablest  of  American  generals,  who  died 
the  next  year  after  the  close  of  the  Revolution.  Put- 
nam, another  of  the  heroes  of  Long  Island,  and  the  oldest 
of  the  generals,  then  lay  on  a  dying  bed,  and  so  did  the 
venerable  Franklin.  The  death  of  these  illustrious  pa- 
triots indeed  gave  deep  solemnity  to  the  first  year  of  the 
presidency.  While  men  die,  however,  principles  live. 
Washington  occupied  a  house  in  the  aristocratic  vicinity 
of  Cherry  street,  which  is  now  one  of  the  lowest  parts  of 
the  city.  The  vice-president  chose  Richmond  Hill,  which 
afterward  was  owned  by  Aaron  Burr.  Hamilton  lived 
in  Cedar  street,  while  General  Knox,  secretary  of  war 
lived  in  William  street,  and  Jefferson  in  Maiden  Lane. 

The  new  government  was  formed  by  married  men,  and 
their  wives  were  of  a  high  order  of  ability.  Mrs.  Ham- 
ilton was  a  daughter  of  Gen.  Schuyler,  and  inherited  rare 
mental  and  moral  qualifications.     Mrs,  Aaron  Burr  had 


Kational.  461 

sufficient  talent  and  influence  to  command  her  husband's 
respect,  but  was  removed  by  death  a  few  years  afterward. 
Mrs.  Washington  needs  no  additional  reference.  Mrs. 
Adams  was  a  woman  of  extraordinary  ability.  Jefferson 
had  a  few  years  previously  lost  a  noble-hearted  companion 
—  a  bereavement  which  he  felt  through  life — and  he 
died  a  widower. 

Washington's  Namesakes. 
The  first  man  named  after  the  father  of  his  country 
was  Washington  Alston,  who  was  born  on  the  5th  of  No- 
vember, 1779.  His  father  being  an  ardent  admirer  of 
the  patriot  general,  called  the  babe  after  the  latter,  who 
certainly  had  no  reason  to  be  ashamed  of  his  namesake. 
Three  years  afterward  another  babe  was  honored  in  the 
same  manner,  and  became  Washington  Irving.  As  a 
general  thing,  however,  few  of  those  who  bore  this  name 
have  reached  distinction  —  the  most  prominent  of  the 
number  being  the  liberal  and  enterprising  editor,  George 
W.  Childs.  There  was  also  Washington  Hunt,  who  be- 
came governor  of  New  York,  but  these  are  among  the 
few  exceptions  to  the  rule.  Concerning  the  names  of 
places,  it  may  be  said  that  when  the  present  national  cap- 
ital was  laid  out  it  was  simply  designated  as  "  the  federal 
city."  President  Washington  attended  to  its  survey,  and 
his  name  was  given  to  it  a  few  years  afterward. 

Washington  City  Projected. 
One  of  the  most  interesting  paragraphs  in  the  New 
York  Daily  Advertiser,  April  13,  1791  —  when  Phila- 
delphia was  the  national  capital  —  is  the  announcement 
that  "the  president  had  arrived  at  George  Town  in  order 
to  meet  the  commissioners  for  locating  the  federal  city. 
He  had  obtained  the  promise  for  four  thousand  acres,  sur- 
passed   by  no  spot  on  earth.     He   had   instructed   Col. 


462  Our  Book. 

L'Enfant,  who  served  with  distinction  during  the  Revo- 
lution, and  whose  tastes  and  talents  are  generally  admired, 
to  plan  and  lay  out  the  city."  In  this  simple  paragraph 
we  have  the  germ  of  the  present  national  capital.  The 
name  of  the  latter  had  not  then  been  chosen,  but  some 
time  before  Washington's  death  it  was  decided  to  give 
him  this  honor. 

Howard  and  Washington. 

While  Great  Britain  was  trying  to  conquer  the  colo- 
nies, John  Howard  was  conducting  a  good  fight  against 
the  abuses  of  the  prison  system.  He  was  of  the  same 
age  with  Captain  Cook,  each  having  just  passed  their 
fiftieth  year.  It  was  on  the  18th  of  April.  1778,  that 
Howard  started  on  his  extensive  European  tour.  Having 
spent  the  five  previous  years  in  reforming  the  condition 
of  the  British  prisons,  he  devoted  himself  to  that  broader 
field  found  in  the  different  kingdoms  of  Europe.  This 
series  of  labors  he  continued  for  twelve  years,  when  he 
died  at  Kherson,  on  the  Black  Sea,  near  Sebastopol,  hav- 
ing fallen  a  victim  to  the  plague  in  an  attempt  to  dis- 
cover a  remedy  for  that  terrible  scourge. 

These  facts  show  that  even  amid  tlie  horrors  of  war 
the  tenderest  sympathies  may  be  exerted,  while  science 
may  at  the  same  time  accomplish  its  benign  mission. 

Howard  and  Washington  were  the  noblest  men  of  that 
age,  and  the  scenes  which  revive  the  memory  of  the  one 
may  also  be  of  use  to  suggest  afresh  the  equally  beautiful 
memory  of  the  other.  It  may  be  also  said  that  there  has 
been  in  regard  to  these  two  men  an  international  ex- 
change of  a  very  peculiar  and  exceptional  character. 
Washington  became  the  admiration  of  the  patriotism  of 
both  Great  Britain  and  Europe,  while  the  name  of  How- 
ard to  tliis  day  enjoys  special  honor  amid  the  philan- 
tliropy  of  America. 


National.  463 

These  men  attained  each  a  grand  success  in  the  midst 
of  perplexing  obstacles  by  devotion  to  tlie  duty  which 
had  been  laid  upon  them.  They  were  simply  faithful, 
each  to  a  great  cause,  and  it  is  in  this  view  that  their 
examples  possess  so  high  a  value. 

The  Signers  of  the  Declaration. 

In  the  committee  that  framed  the  Declaration  the  south 
was  represented  by  Jefferson,  the  middle  states  by  Frank- 
lin and  Livingston,  and  the  north  and  east  by  Sherman 
and  Adams.  We  have  reason  to  believe  that  the  lirst  and 
the  last  mentioned  of  this  committee  had  never  met  until 
the  convening  of  congress.  They  harmonized  at  once, 
for  both  had  been  schooled  in  free  opinions.     Adams  was 

senior  by   eight  years,  but  was  mucli  older  in  experi- 
ence. 

The  signers  were  men  of  mature  years,  and  two-thirds  of 
the  whole  number  were  more  than  forty.  The  oldest  was 
Benjamin  Franklin,  who  was  seventy  ;  the  youngest  was 
Edward  Rutledge  of  South  Carolina,  who  was  but  twenty- 
six.  The  oldest  five  were  Philip  Livingston,  sixty  ;  Mat- 
thew Thornton,  sixty-two ;  Francis  Lewis,  sixty-three ; 
Francis  Hopkins,  sixty-nine;  and  Franklin,  who  was  a 
year  older.  The  youngest  five  next  to  Rutledge  were 
Thomas  Lynch,  twenty-seven;  Benjamin  Rush,  thirty-one; 
while  Thomas  Jefferson,  Arthur  Middleton  and  Thomas 
Stone  were  each  thirty-three ;  John  Hancock,  the  presi- 
dent of  congress,  was  thirty-nine. 

The  first  to  sign  after  the  president  was  Josiah  Bart- 
lett,  a  physician,  who  was  forty-seven.  Francis  Lewis 
was  a  Welshman.  Robert  Morris  and  Button  Gwinnet 
were  from  England.  James  Wilson  and  John  Wither- 
spoon  were  of  Scottish  birth,  while  Ireland  furnished 
Matthew  Thornton,  George  Taylor  and  James  Smith. 


464  Dying  too  Soon. 

How  ead  to  contemplate  this  grand  array  as  among  the 
dead,  and  then  to  think  that  six  of  the  number,  more  than 
one- tenth  of  the  whole,  expired  before  the  close  of  the 
struggle.  They  never  saw  the  acknowledgment  of  that 
independence  for  which  they  had  made  so  solemn  a  pledge. 
This  number  includes  John  Morton,  who  only  lived  ten 
months  after  affixing  his  signature,  and  Philip  Livingston 
who  died  while  in  Congress  in  1778.  He  had  also  served 
in  the  Stamp  Act  Congress.  Thomas  Lynch,  was  lost  at 
sea  in  1779,  being  then  only  twenty  nine.  The  same 
year  George  Ross  died,  aged  forty-nine.  John  Hart  died 
in  1780,  and  George  Taylor  in  1781. 

Three  of  the  signers  died  in  1790,  and  the  same  num- 
ber in  1803.  Two  died  the  same  day  —  Adams  and  Jef- 
ferson —  that  being  the  fiftieth  anniversary  of  the  national 
birthday.  Josiah  Bartlett  was  first  to  introduce  the  use 
of  Peruvian  bark  (from  which  quinine  is  made),  and  this 
certainl}'  is  an  additional  point  of  distinction.  One  of 
the  number — George  Wyeth  of  Virginia — died  by  ac- 
cidental poison.  He  was  a  man  of  marked  ability,  and 
had  reached  the  ripe  age  of  fifty  at  the  time  of  signing. 
He  lived  to  see  four-score,  when  his  life  was  terminated 
in  the  above-mentioned  manner.  Eleven  of  the  number 
lived  to  see  eighty  or  more,  and  John  Adams  reached 
ninety,  while  William  Ellery  lived  to  ninety-two,  and 
Charles  Carroll,  of  Carrollton,  died  at  ninety-five. 

The  average  of  the  fifty-six  signers  at  the  time  of 
death  was  sixty  years  —  a  fact  which  shows  that  a  healthy 
and  well-preserved  body  of  men  formed  the  congress  of 
1776.  Another  feature  is  the  uniform  excellence  of  the 
handwriting,  and  it  will  not  be  easy  to  find  in  any  repre- 
sentative body  an  equal  proportion  of  well- written  names. 
Charles  Carroll  was  the  richest  of  all  the  signers,  and  as 
he  held  the  most  extensive  of  all    manorial  grants  in 


National.  465 

Maryland  there  was  to  Lim  a  deep  meaning  in  the  expres- 
sion "  our  fortunes  "  as  well  as  our  "  sacred  honor." 

Statesman  and  Pakson. 

There  was  one  clergyman  in  this  Congress  — John 
Witherspoon  —  whose  influence  was  of  a  very  powerful 
character.  He  was  a  man  of  both  talent  and  education, 
and  naturally  carried  great  weight.  In  addition  to  this 
he  was  president  of  Princeton  College,  This  institution 
being  closed  by  the  war,  he  entered  public  life  and  did 
good  service  as  a  congressman.  Witherspoon,  like  Mc- 
Cosli,  was  called  to  his  duty  from  across  the  Atlantic. 
He  was  preaching  in  Scotland  at  the  time  of  his  election 
and  had  only  been  eight  years  in  America  when  he  signed 
the  Declaration. 

Interesting  Reunion. 
Benjamin  Franklin  and  Francis  Hopkins  were  the  two 
oldest  and  they  were  united  by  memories  of  a  stirring 
character.  They  were  members  of  the  Albany  congress, 
where  a  union  of  the  colonies  were  first  planned.  After 
a  lapse  of  twenty-two  years,  they  meet  in  a  congress  of 
vastly  more  important  character  —  one  indeed  which  not 
only  renewed  the  plan  of  union,  but  established  national 
government.  Hopkins  was  in  public  life  for  half  a  cen- 
tury (in  Rhode  Island),  and  he  was  the  first  of  the  signers 
to  pass  away  after  witnessing  the  triumph  of  the  cause. 
He  died  in  1785. 

The  first  Anniversary. 
The  Fourth  of  July,  17Y7,  found  Washington  and  his 
army  in  New  Jersey  skirmishing  with  the  British  gen- 
erals—  Howe  and  Cornwallis  —  and  wearing  them  with 
his  Fabian  tactics.     During  the  year  just  passed  he  had 

been  defeated  in  a  terrible  manner  at  Long  Island,  and 
59 


466  Our  Boo^. 

had  won  two  encouraging  victories — Trenton  and  Prince- 
ton. The  second  anniversary  —  July  4,  1778  —  found 
Washington  victor  in  a  battle  fought  less  than  a  week 
previously  at  Monmouth.  On  that  day  a  court  martial 
was  organized  with  Lord  Stirling  as  president,  for  the 
trial  of  General  Lee,  who  was  accused  of  miscon- 
duct on  the  field,  and  also  with  disrespect  toward  his 
chief. 

The  third  anniversary  occurred  when  Washington  and 
the  Continental  forces  were  encamped  near  West  Point, 
and  the  general  was  then  planning  the  attack  on  Stony 
Point,  which  Wayne  stormed  at  the  point  of  the  bayonet 
eleven  days  afterward.  On  the  fourth  anniversary  — 
July  4,  1780  —  the  army  had  just  accomplished  severe 
service  in  New  Jersey,  and  Washington  was  at  Dobbs 
Ferry,  twenty-five  miles  from  New  York,  expecting  soon 
to  be  reinforced  by  the  French  allies  under  Count  Ho- 
chambeau.  The  next  Fourth  — 1781  —  Washington  and 
Lafayette  were  making  a  reconnoissance  of  New  York 
for  the  purpose  of  expelling  the  British,  who  had  held  it 
during  the  war.  They  were  on  the  Westchester  Heights, 
and  might  really  have  captured  the  city,  had  not  their 
attention  been  called  to  Yorktown,  which  offered  a  more 
brilliant  success,  and  within  four  months  the  army  of 
Cornwallis  had  surrendered. 

We  thus  perceive  that  the  Fourth  has  been  connected 
in  the  military  life  of  the  "  great  liberator"  with  stirring 
events,  and  this  has  since  been  noticeable  in  the  history  of 
our  country.  Two  ex-presidents  of  eminent  distinction 
—  John  Adams  and  Thomas  Jefferson  —  died  on  one  of 
these  anniversaries,  and  another,  ex-President  Monroe, 
subsequently  on  a  similar  occasion.  During  the  rebellion 
the  Fourth  of  July  was  celebrated  in  the  army  by  salutes 
fired  from  shotted  guns  pointed  toward  the  enemy.     The 


National.  467 

capture  of  Yicksbnrg  by  Grant  occurred  July  4,  1863, 
while  the  battle  of  Gettysburg  was  almost  coincidect 
with  the  same  glorious  anniversary. 

Hancock's  Eloquence. 

Previous  to  the  Kevolution,  the  citizens  of  Boston 
solemnly  observed  the  anniversary  of  what  was  called 
the  "Boston  massacre."  This  occurred  on  the  5th  of 
March,  1770,  and  created  such  deep  indignation,  that  it 
soon  found  utterance  in  the  boldest  defiance.  In  1774, 
John  Hancock,  then  a  Boston  merchant,  was  the  orator 
of  the  occasion,  and  when  one  recalls  the  fact  that  he  was 
still  a  subject  of  the  king,  and  also  that  a  British  gov- 
ernor ruled  in  Boston,  sustained  by  a  large  body  of  troops, 
it  may  be  considered  a  rare  instance  of  bearding  the  lion 
in  his  den.  The  oration  was  printed,  and  I  give  the 
reader  a  series  of  extracts  which  show  the  power  of  Han 
cock's  unpolished  oratory  : 

Let  this  sad  tale  of  death  never  be  told  without  a  tear,  and  let 
all  America  join  in  prayer  tliat  the  inhuman,  unprovoked  murder 
may  ever  stand  without  a  parallel.  But  let  not  tlie  miscreant  host 
vainly  imagine  that  we  fear  their  arms.  No!  Them  we  despise. 
We  dread  nothing  but  slavery.  Death  is  the  creature  of  a  pol- 
troon's brain.  'Tis  immortality  to  sacrifice  ourselves  to  the  salva- 
tion of  our  country.  Let  us  be  ready  to  take  the  field  when 
danger  calls.  Remember,  my  friends,  from  whom  you  sprung. 
I  conjure  you  by  all  that  is  dear  —  by  all  that  is  honorable,  by 
all  that  is  sacred,  that  ye  not  only  pray,  but  act  —  that  if  neces- 
sary, ye  fight  and  even  die.  Break  in  sunder  the  bonds  with 
which  the  Philistines  have  bound  you.  I  have  the  most  animated 
confidence  tliat  the  present  noble  struggle  for  liberty  will  termi- 
nate gloriously  for  America. 

Little  more  than  two  years  afterward  this  very  orator 
was  the  first  man  to  sign  the  Declaration  of  Independence. 
Hancock  was  not  bred  to  public  life.  He  was  as  I  have 
said,  a  Boston  merchant,  and  being  the  richest  man  in  the 
entire  colony,  met  the  risks  of  patriotism  in  every  possi- 
ble shape.     If,  however,  the  Boston  people  were  the  first 


468  Odr  Book. 

to  celebrate  public  occasions,  the  sontli  led  in  the  observ- 
ance of  the  Fourth. 

The  first  Oration. 

The  first  celebration  of  the  Fourth  took  place  in  Charles- 
ton in  1778  — a  time  when  independence  was  a  matter  of 
great  uncertainty,  and  Dr.  Ramsay  was  the  orator.  Ram- 
say was  a  man  of  more  than  ordinary  ability.  He  was  an 
esteemed  physician  an  orator,  a  member  of  the  first  con- 
gress, and  also  wrote  a  history  of  America.  He  married 
a  daughter  of  Henry  Laurens,  the  distinguished  patriot 
and  pioneer  in  cremation.  Immediately  after  the  close 
of  the  Revolution  the  celebration  of  Independence  Day 
became  a  national  custom. 

Speaking  of  Mrs.  Ramsay,  it  may  be  said  that  she  was 

educated  in  England,  and  was  living   thei'e  when   the 

Revolution   begun.     Beixig   reduced  to  self-dependence 

her  father  wrote  her  thus : 

My  love  for  you  constrains  me  to  give  you  timely  notice.  Pre- 
pare to  earn  your  bread  by  daily  labor.  Fear  not  servitude;  en- 
counter it  if  it  sliall  be  necessary,  with  a  spirit  becoming  a  woman 
of  an  honest  and  pious  heart. 

Reader,  if  such  had  not  been  the  spirit  of  1776,  inde- 
pendence would  never  liave  been  won. 

Washington   Libelled. 

Some  reckless  writers  of  recent  appearance  have  striven 

to  command  attention  by  detracting  from  "Washington, 

and  among  these  is  McMaster,  who  seems  determined  to 

make  sensation  by  the  flippant  and  very  incorrect  way  in 

which  he  speaks  of  America's  noblest  character: 

He  [Washington]  died  in  his  sixty-eighth  year,  and  in  the  hey- 
day of  his  glory  and  his  fame.  Time  has  since  dealt  gently  with 
his  memory,  and  he  has  come  to  us  as  the  greatest  of  all  leaders, 
and  the  most  immaculate  of  all  men.  No  other  face  is  so  familiar 
to  us.     His  name  is  written  all  over  the  map  of  onr  country.     We 


National.  469 

have  made  of  his  birthday  a  national  feast.  The  outlines  of  his 
biography  are  known  to  every  schoolboy  in  the  land.  Yet  his 
true  biography  is  still  to  be  prepared. 

General  Washington  is  known  to  us  and  President  Washington. 
But  George  Washington  is  an  unknown  man.  When  at  last  he  is 
set  before  us  in  his  habits  as  he  lived,  we  shall  read  less  of  the 
cherry  tree  and  more  of  the  man.  Naught,  surely,  that  is  heroic 
will  be  omitted,  but  side  by  side  with  what  is  heroic  will  appear 
much  that  is  common-place. 

We  shall  behold  tlie  great  commander  repairing  defeat  witli 
marvelous  celerity,  healing  the  dissensions  of  his  officers  and  calm- 
ing the  passions  of  his  mutinous  troops.  But  we  sliall  also  hear  his 
oatlis  and  see  him  in  those  terrible  outbursts  of  passion  to  which 
Mr.  Jefferson  has  alluded,  one  of  which  Mr.  Lear  has  described. 
We  sliall  see  him  refusing  to  be  paid  for  his  services  by  congress, 
and  yet  exacting  from  tlie  family  of  the  poor  masoa  the  shilling 
that  was  his  due.  We  shall  know  him  as  a  cold  and  forbidding 
character,  witii  whom  no  fellow  man  ever  ventured  to  live  on 
close  and  familiar  terms. 

Brief  Reply. 

The  "  historian  "  wlio  says  that  "  George  Washington 
is  an  unknown  man  "  can  hardly  expect  either  the  respect 
or  confidence  of  his  readers.  From  his  death  down  to  the 
present  time  Washington  has  been  explored  by  biogra- 
phers who  have  spared  no  effort  to  obtain  facts.  Weeras 
had  his  Life  of  Washington  out  within  three  months 
after  the  old  hero's  death,  and  tlien  came  Marshall,  Botta, 
Sparks,    Irving  and  Everett. 

.  Aside  from  his  public  life  we  have  the  proof  that  Wash- 
ington was  a  good  brother,  a  good  son,  and  a  good  hus- 
band, and  we  all  know  that  home  is  the  best  place  to  test 
character.  In  his  twentieth  year  he  became  nurse  and  at- 
tended on  his  half-brother  Lawrence,  whom  he  accom- 
panied to  Barbadoes  —  this  being  his  only  marine  voyage. 
He  took  care  of  Lawrence  three  months,  but  the  latter 
was  in  a  hopeless  condition,  and  only  returned  home  to 
die. 

As  a  son,  Washington's  first  act  after  election  to  the 
presidency  was  a  visit  to  his  aged   mother  (who  lived  at 


470  Our  Book. 

Fredericksburg),  and  it  proved  to  be  their  last  meeting 
on  earth.  A  pubhc  dinner  was  given  him  at  the  same 
time  at  Alexandria  and  this  "cold  and  forbidding  char- 
acter "  spoke  as  follows : 

Just  having  bidden  adieu  to  my  domestic  connections,  this  ten- 
der proof  of  your  friendship  is  but  too  well  calculated  to  awaken 
still  further  my  sensibility  and  increase  my  regret  at  parting  from 
the  enjoyment  of  private  life.  All  that  now  remains  for  me  is  to 
commit  myself  and  you  to  the  care  of  that  beneficent  Being  who 
has  happily  brought  us  together  after  a  long  and  distressing  sepa- 
ration. 

Perhaps  the  same  gracious  Providence  will  again  indulge  me. 
But  words  fail  me.  Unutterable  sensations  must  be  left  to  more 
expressive  silence,  while  with  an  aching  heart  I  bid  all  my  affec- 
tionate friends  and  kind  neighbors  farewell. 

It  is  highly  probable  that  McMaster  never  read  the 
above  address  and  hence  may  be  excused  on  the  ground 
of  ignorance.  He  might  perhaps  be  allowed  such  a  plea 
were  it  not  that  his  conceit  is  indulged  in  such  sneers  as 
the  following :  "  We  shall  read  less  of  the  cherry  tree  and 
more  of  the  man."  McMaster  knows  that  the  cherry 
tree  is  a  fable  and  is  never  mentioned  in  any  respectable 
history.  It  was  inrentcd  by  Parson  Weems  who  was  as 
untrustworthy  as  McMaster  himself.  "  We  shall  also 
hear  his  oaths  and  see  him  in  those  terrible  outbursts  of 
passion  to  which  Jefferson  has  alluded." 

Those  Oaths. 

Irving  says  that "  Washington  inherited  from  his  mother 
a  high  temper  and  a  spirit  of  command,  but  her  early  pre- 
cepts and  example  taught  him  to  govern  that  temper,  and 
to  square  his  conduct  on  the  exact  princij3le  of  equity  and 
justice." 

Tlie  reader  is  probably  aware  that  "  high  temper  "  is  a 
prominent  feature  in  all  men  of  power.  It  is,  in  fact,  as 
necessary  to  man  as  it  is  to  steel,  and  it  only  becomes 
dangerous  when  it  exceeds  control. 


Kational.  471 

Washington's  high  temper  gave  him  nerve  and  energy, 
and  we  have  but  two  instances  on  record  of  "  terrible 
outbursts."  One  was  when  reprimanding  Lee  for  his 
cowardice  in  the  field  of  Monmouth,  where,  as  Lafayette 
said,  "the  aspect  of  the  commander  was  terrible."  No 
oaths,  however,  are  mentioned,  and  there  is  no  j^roof  that 
Washington  ever  used  profane  language. 

The  other  "  outburst "  took  place  in  the  executive  cham- 
ber at  Philadelphia,  and  Lear,  the  private  secretary,  was 
the  sole  witness.  The  occasion  was  the  defeat  of  St.  Clair 
by  the  Indians,  and  the  massacre  of  a  large  part  of  his  army. 
Lear  gives  us  the  following  description  of  the  scene, 
which,  in  reality,  is  not  one  of  profanity,  but  of  agony : 

The  general  walked  slowly  backward  and  forward  for  some 
minutes  in  silence.  As  yet  there  had  been  no  change  in  his  man- 
ner. Taking  a  seat  on  the  sofa,  by  the  iire,  he  told  Mr.  Lear  to  sit 
down ;  the  latter  had  scarce  time  to  notice  that  he  was  extremely 
agitated,  when  he  broke  out  suddenly:  "  It's  all  over!  St.  Clair 
defeated !  Routed !  The  officers  nearly  all  killed ;  the  men  by 
wholesale;  the  rout  complete;  too  shocking  to  think  of,  and  a 
surprise  into  the  bargain ! 

All  this  was  uttered  with  great  vehemence.  Then, 
pausing  and  rising  from  the  sofa,  he  walked  up  and  down 
the  room  in  silence,  violently  agitated,  but  saying  noth- 
ing. When  near  the  door  he  stopped  short,  stood  still 
for  a  few  moments,  then  there  was  another  explosion : 

"Yes,''  exclaimed  he.  '■'■Here,  on  this  very  spot,  I  took  leave 
of  him;  I  wished  him  success  and  honor.  You  have  your  instruc- 
tions from  the  secretary  of  war,"  said  I,  "  and  I  will  add  but  one 
word :  Beware  of  a  surpi'ise  !  You  know  how  the  Indians  fight  us. 
I  repeat  it :  '  Beware  of  a  surj)rise !  '  He  went  off  with  that,  my 
last  warning  ringing  in  his  ears.  And  yet,  to  suffer  that  army  to 
be  cut  to  pieces,  hacked,  butchered,  tomahawked  by  surprise  — 
the  very  thing  I  guarded  him  against — O,  God !  O,  God !"  exclaimed 
he,  throwing  up  his  hands,  and  while  his  frame  shook  with  emo- 
tion: "  He  is  worse  than  a  murderer!  How  can  he  answer  to  his 
country  1  The  blood  of  the  slain  is  upon  him ;  the  curse  of  widows 
and  orphans  —  the  curse  of  heaven !  " 

Mr.  Lear  remained  speechless;  awed  into  breathless 


472  Our  Book. 

silence  by  the  appalling  tones  in  which  the  torrent  of  in- 
vective was  poured  forth.  The  paroxysm  passed  by. 
Washington  sat  down  on  the  sofa ;  he  was  silent ;  appa- 
rently uncomfortable,  as  if  conscious  of  the  ungovernable 
burst  of  passion  which  had  overcome  him.  "This  must 
not  go  beyond  this  room,"  said  he;  "I  looked  hastily 
through  the  dispatches,  saw  tlie  disaster,  but  not  all  the 
particulars.  I  will  receive  him  witliout  displeasure ;  I 
will  hear  him  without  prejudice  ;  he  shall  have  full  justice." 
The  way  in  which  McMaster  quotes  Jefferson  in  proof 
of  Washington's  high  temper  naturally  leads  one  to  sup- 
pose that  the  former  had  witnessed  some  extraordinary 
outbreak.  Instead  of  this,  however,  Jefferson's  testimony 
is  limited  to  a  brief  sentence  which,  had  McMaster  been 
candid,  he  would  have  published  and  then  left  the  reader 
to  form  his  own  conclusion.  The  sentence  above  referred 
to  occurs  in  Jefferson's  letter  to  Dr.  Jones  on  Washing- 
ton's character,  from  which  I  quote  as  follows : 

He  was  indeed,  in  every  sense  of  the  word,  a  wise,  a  good 
and  a  great  man.  His  temper  Was  naturally  irritable  and  high 
toned,  but  reflection  and  resolution  had  obtained  a  firm  and 
habitual  ascendancy  over  it.  If,  however,  it  broke  its  bounds  he 
was  most  tremendous  in  liis  wrath. 

That  is  all  that  Jefferson  says  about  temper,  and  I  sub- 
mit to  the  reader  whether  it  be  a  sufficient  basis  for  the 
impression  which  McMaster's  words  would  naturally  leave 
on  the  public  mind.  Jefferson  adds  in  the  same  letter 
the  following  statement : 

His  character  was  in  its  mass  perfect;  in  nothing  bad;  in  few 
points  indifferent,  and  it  may  be  truly  said  that  never  did  nature 
and  fortune  combine  more  perfectly  to  make  a  man  great. 

Some  Instances. 

How  very  inconsistent  with  the  "  cold  and  forbidding 
character"  mentioned  by  McMaster  was  Washington's 
conduct  toward  his  fallen  enemy  at  Trenton.     The  latter 


National.  473 

(Colonel  Kahl)had  received  a  mortal  wound  and  lay  dying 
at  a  neighboring  farm-house.  Notwithstanding  the  hurry 
of  the  occasion,  every  moment  being  required  to  get  away 
with  the  prisoners,  Washington  called  on  the  dying  man 
and  (through  an  interpreter)  expressed  his  sympathy.  It 
was  a  scene  worthy  of  an  aitist. 

Another  instance,  which  occurs  nine  years  afterward, 
may  be  mentioned  as  an  illustration  of  the  "cold  and  for- 
bidding character."  Elkanah  Watson,  who  was  one  of 
the  projectors  of  the  Erie  canal,  visited  Mount  Yernon 
in  1785.  He  had  a  severe  cold,  and  after  going  to  bed, 
suffered  a  severe  attack  of  coughing.  "  When  some  time 
had  elapsed,"  he  writes,  "  the  door  of  my  room  was 
gently  opened  and  T  beheld  Washington  himself  with  a 
bowl  of  hot  tea  in  his  hand." 

A  very  marked  instance  of  Washington's  kindness  is 
found  in  his  reply  to  Phyllis  Wheatley,  the  colored  prodigy 
of  Boston,  who  sent  him  a  page  of  complimentary  verses. 
Some  military  leaders  would  have  thrown  them  into  the 
fire,  and  under  such  a  pressure  even  Washington  would 
have  been  excused  had  he  done  this.  Such,  however, 
was  not  his  character.  He  wrote  the  girl  a  letter  of 
thanks,  and  did  not  seem  to  think  less  of  her  poetry  be- 
cause its  author  was  an  African. 

The  poem  referred  to  is  chiefly  interesting  as  the  first 
of  those  innumerable  poetic  effusions  in  honor  of  Wash- 
ington.    It  closes  thus : 

Proceed,  great  chief,  with  virtue  on  thy  side, 
Thy  every  action  let  the  goddess  guide ; 
A  crown,  a  mansion,  and  a  throne  that  shine, 
With  gold  unfading,  Washington!  be  thine. 

The  letter  of  acknowledgment  was  as  follows : 

Cambridge,  February  2,  1776. 
Miss  Phyllis  : 

Your  favor  of  the  23d  October,  did  not  reach  my  hands  until 
the  middle  of  December,     Time  enough  you   will  say,  to  have 
GO 


474 


OuK  Book. 


given  an  answer  ere  this.  Granted.  But  a  variety  of  important 
occurrences  continually  interposing  to  distract  the  mind  and 
withdraw  the  attention,  I  hope  will  apologize  for  the  delay,  and 
plead  my  excuse  for  the  seeming  but  not  real  neglect.  I  thank 
you  most  sincerely  for  your  polite  notice  of  me,  in  the  elegant 
lines  you  enclosed ;  and  however  undeserving  I  may  be  of  such 
encomiums  and  panegyric,  the  style  and  manner  exhibit  a  striking 
proof  of  your  poetical  talents ;  in  honor  of  which,  and  as  a  tribute 
justly  due  to  you,  I  would  have  published  the  poem,  had  I  not 
been  apprehensive  that,  while  I  only  meant  to  give  the  world 
this  new  instance  of  your  genius.  I  might  have  incurred  the  im- 
putation of  vanity.  This,  and  nothing  else,  determined  me  not 
to  give  it  place  in  the  public  prints.  If  you  should  ever  come  to 
Cambridge,  or  near  headquarters,  I  shall  be  happy  to  see  a  person 
so  favored  by  tbe  muses,  and  to  whom  nature  has  been  so  liberal 
and  beneficent  in  her  dispensations. 

I  am,  with  great  respect,  your  obedient,  humble  servant, 

Geoiiqe  Washington. 


m^:^ 


PHYLLIS    WHEATLET. 


How  strange  it  seems  that  the  above  should  have  been 
written  to  a  native  of  Africa,  who  only  a  few  years  pre- 
viously had  been  purchased  in  the  Boston  slave  market  — 
having  been  selected  by  Mrs.  Wheatley  on  account  of  her 
delicate  aj^pearance. 


KATIONAt.  475 

Now  in  regard  to  that  "  poor  family  "  from  which,  as 
McMaster  says,  Washington  exacted  the  shilHng  that  was 
his  due,  I  say  let  us  have  the  details  of  the  whole  affair. 
If  McMaster  has  discovered  such  parsimony  the  public 
lias  a  right  to  know  of  it,  and  if  the  facts  be  not  pro- 
duced McMaster  cannot  complain  if  he  be  considered  a 
libeller  of  America's  noblest  citizen. 

Washington  and  Jefferson. 

The  bitterness  which  Jefferson  exhibited  toward  Wash- 
ington was  one  of  the  most  painful  trials  that  befell  the 
father  of  his  country.  It  is  true  after  the  retirement  of 
the  latter  the  breach  was  healed,  but  Washington,  though 
he  forgave  never  forgot  the  wounds  he  received  from  one 
of  whom  he  expected  friendship.  Jefferson  was  the 
leader  in  the  opposition  which  Washington  endured  all 
through  his  presidential  service.  He  employed  Piiilip 
Freneau  to  assail  the  president  in  the  National  Gazette, 
and  as  that  paper  did  not  afford  its  editor  a  support  lie 
supplemented  it  by  a  clerkship.  Jefferson  afterward  re- 
gretted his  conduct,  and  probably  a  reproachful  conscience 
led  him  not  only  to  publish  his  testimony  in  favor  of 
Washington,  but  also  to  seek  the  friendship  of  John 
Adams,  who  had  endured  the  full  force  of  the  same 
antagonism.  Twenty  years  afterward  Jefferson  showed 
his  change  of  feelings  by  sending  a  congratulatory  letter  to 
Adams  on  the  election  of  his  son  to  the  presidency.  This 
was  certainly  a  kindly  expression  of  friendship,  and  the 
two  former  rivals  thus  became  reconciled. 

Biographers  of  Washington. 

These  men  exhibit  a  great  variety  in  birthplace,  educa- 
tion and  ability,  and  the  fact  that  their  number  is  pre- 
cisely that  of  the  muses,  is  in  harmony  with  the  idea  of  a 


476 


Our  Book. 


grand  completeness.  The  series  begins  with  Mason  Lee 
Weems  —  a  poverty-stricken  parson  who  preached  at 
Pohick  —  but  his  paiish  inchided  Mount  Yernon.  To 
eke  out  a  support  he  not  only  turned  author  but  also  book 
agent,  and  is  the  earliest  of  the  last-mentioned  class  on 
record.  As  soon  as  Washington  died  Weems  determined 
to  write  his  life  and  worked  with  such  rapidity  that  it 
was  published  in  less  than  three  months  after  the  old 
hero's  funeral.  It  was,  however,  only  a  pamphlet  of 
eighty-two  pages,  which  was  afterward  enlarged  to  a  re- 
spectable volume.  It  was  published  on  the  22d  of  Feb- 
ruary, 1800,  with  the  following  title: 

A  history  of  the  Life  and  Death,  Virtues  and  Exploits  of  Gen. 
George  Washington,  faithfully  taken  from  autlientic  documents 
and  respectfully  offered  to  the  perusal  of  his  countrymen;  as  also 
all  others  who  wish  to  see  human  nature  in  its  most  finished  form. 
Price  twenty-five  cents.  By  the  Rev.  M.  L.  Weems.  Printed  for 
the  author. 


■WEEMS. 


The  pamphlet  was  dedicated  to  Mrs.  Washington  and 
found  ready  sale,  for  Weems  canvassed  the  country  act- 
ively, and  was  well  rewarded  for  his  labors.  Eleven  edi- 
tions were  sold  in  ten  years,  and  each  edition  was  enlarged 
until  the  book  reached  its  present  size. 


National. 


477 


It  is  to  Weems'  imagination  that  we  owe  the  storj  of 
tlie  clierrj  tree  and  the  little  hatchet,  together  with  many 
other  ridiculous  fictions  which,  being  of  less  interest,  have 
not  been  so  frequently  published.  Weems  died  in  1825. 
He  was  an  old  man  and  had  survived  all  the  friends'  of 
Washington  and  also  his  own  associates,  but  he  lived  to 
see  his  own  name  immortalized  as  the  author  of  the  little 
hatchet. 

Marshall. 

The  contrast  between  the  first  and  second  biographers  was 
one  of  striking  character.  In  place  of  the  driveling  parson 
we  have  the  exact  and  careful  lawyer.  In  addition  to  this, 
however,  was  the  experience  of  the  statesman  and  also  of 
the  soldier.     Marshall  indeed  served  in  the  Continental 


JOHN  MARSHALL. 

army  and  afterward  was  honored  with  important  appoint- 
ments both  at  home  and  abroad.  He  was  member  of 
congress  at  the  time  of  Washington's  death,  and  his  reso- 
lutions on  the  occasion  included  the  project  of  a  monu- 
ment. 


478  Our  Book. 

Such  a  man  could  only  be  disgusted  with  Weems'  bom- 
bast, and  this  no  doubt  led  him  to  write  a  biography  of 
more  suitable  character.  His  efforts,  however,  were,  to  a 
large  degree,  devoted  to  defending  Washington's  admin- 
iijtratiun,  which  had  been  so  bitterly  assailed.  The  work 
appeared  six  years  after  Weems',  but  it  was  too  expensive 
for  the  common  people,  and  hence  he  afterward  condensed 
it  to  less  than  one-half  its  original  size,  but  even  then  it 
did  not  reach  a  wide  circulation. 

Marsliall's  work  was  afterward  condensed  by  Aaron 
Bancroft  —  father  of  George  Bancroft  —  one  volume  of 
which  appeared  two  years  after  the  publication  of  the 
original.  Aaron  Bancroft  did  some  useful  work  as  an 
liistorian,  but  the  above-mentioned  volume  is  not  included 
among  the  biographies  of  Washington. 

BoTTA  AND  Sparks. 

An  Italian  living  in  France  —  a  man  of  both  education 
and  ability  —  knowing  the  popularity  of  the  American 
cause,  published  in  1809  such  a  history  of  the  Revolution 
as  could  be  written  in  Paris.  It  w^as  highly  popular  and 
was  soon  after  translated  by  an  American  and  published 
in  this  country.  Botta  really  intended  it  as  a  life  of 
Washington  and  no  doubt  omitted  this  title  to  avoid  any 
contrast  between  the  American  liberator  and  Napoleon. 
The  latter  however,  did  take  offense  at  some  things 
which  seemed  to  be  criticisms  on  the  imperial  rule  and 
made  known  his  displeasure,  though  it  was  not  followed 
by  any  dangerous  consequences. 

The  next  biographer  was  Jared  Sparks,  a  native  of 
Connecticut  and  a  Unitarian  preacher,  who  cultivated  lit- 
erature as  well  as  pulpit  oratory,  and  eventually  gave  the 
former  full  preference.  Twenty  years  had  elapsed  since 
the  appearance  of  Marshall's  biography,  when  Sparks  is- 


Washington's  Biographers. 


479 


sued  the  writings  of  George  Waslnngton  with  his  life. 
This  work  at  once  became  authority,  but  the  compiler 
was  afterward  charged  with  altering  the  old  hero's  lan- 
guage in  order  to  keep  up  his  dignity.  Sparks'  Life  of 
Washington  M^as  intended  to  be  an  accompaniment  of 
the  correspondence  and  is  to  be  viewed  in  this  light. 

Paulding  and  Irving. 

These  men  were  intimate  during  life,  but  though  the 
former  had  an  acknowledged  rank  in  literature,  he  never 
dreamed  of  rivalling  the  latter.  Paulding  wrote  a  life 
of  Washington  for  youth,  in  which  he  avoided  Weems' 
fables,  and  sought  to  interest  his  youthful  readers  by  sim- 
ple truth.  J.  T.  Headley  published  a  very  readable  life 
of  Washington,  and  Lossing  also  produced  a  work  of 
highly  popular  character  on  the  same  subject, 

Irving  —  following  so  many  able  writers  —  made  no 
claim  to  originality,  his  great  object  being  historical  accu- 
racy. His  style  is  more  readable  than  any  of  his  prede- 
cessors, and  the  work  is  pervaded  with  a  glow  of  enthu- 
siasm which  immediatly  awakens  the  ardor  of  the  reader. 


EDWARD  EVERETT. 

Edward  Everett's  dignity  and  elegance  give  him  a  pe- 
culiar distinction.     He  was  the  latest  to  handle  the  sub- 


480  Our  Book. 

ject,  and  thus  the  first  and  Last  biographers  present  a 
striking  contrast — the  one  the  garrulous,  exaggeratiiio- 
rhapsodist — and  the  other  the  most  elegant  and  finished 
author  of  his  day.  Everett's  address  on  Washington, 
which  was  delivered  so  often  for  the  benefit  of  the  Mount 
Yernon  Association,  is  no  doubt  the  finest  specimen  of 
writing  in  the  English  language,  and  to  this  he  added  a 
biography  which  appeared  in  separate  shape. 

Such  are  the  nine  biographers  of  "Washington,  and  the 
work  may  now  be  considered  finished  —  especially  as  they 
have  been  so  admirably  supplemented  by  Henry  Cabot 
Lodge. 

Washington  Monument. 

Kow  that  this  stupendous  shaft  is  completed  it  may  be 
well  to  recall  its  origin.  Washington  died  oti  Saturday, 
December  14,  1799.  When  this  sad  event  was  announced 
in  congress  a  committee  was  appointed  to  devise  a  suitable 
expression  of  feeling,  and  John  Marshall  (afterward  chief 
justice)  was  chairman.  His  report  (which  was  unani- 
mously adopted)  proposed  a  funeral  oration  at  one  of  the 
churches  and  also  the  wearing  of  crape  for  thirty  days, 
but  a  more  important  feature  was  as  follows : 

Resolved,  By  tlie  senate  and  house  of  representatives  of  the 
United  States  of  America,  tliat  a  marble  monument  be  erected  by 
tlie  United  States  at  the  capitol  in  the  city  of  Washington,  and 
that  the  family  of  Gen.  Washington,  be  requested  to  permit  liis 
body  to  be  deposited  under  it,  and  the  monument  be  so  designed  as 
to  commemorate  the  great  events  of  his  military  and  political  life. 

To  Chief  Justice  Marshall  we  are  therefore  indebted 
for  the  first  suggestion  of  the  Washington  monument. 
A  copy  of  these  resolutions  was  sent  to  Mrs.  Washington, 
but  it  was  her  preference  that  the  remains  of  her  husband 
should  rest  in  the  family  tomb,  and  this  is  the  only  reason 
why  they  did  not  finally  repose  in  the  national  capitol. 


"Washington  in  New  Toek.  481 

During  the  Revolution  Washington  was  but  a  short 
time  in  that  city.  In  fact,  New  York  was  at  first  identi- 
fied with  defeat.  He  went  thither  after  driving  the 
British  out  of  Boston  in  March,  1776,  and  remained  in 
its  vicinity  six  months,  being  extremely  desirous  of  hold- 
ing so  important  a  sea  port.  His  headquarters  were  at 
Richmond  Hill  —  then  far  out  of  town.  On  the  9th  of 
July  the  Declaration  of  Independence  was  received  from 
Philadelphia,  and  was  read  at  the  head  of  the  Continental 
army,  and  the  bells  of  the  churches  (nineteen  in  number) 
were  rung  in  honor  of  the  event. 

In  three  weeks  this  army  crossed  to  Brooklyn,  and 
marched  four  miles  to  repel  a  force  just  landed  from  the 
British  fleet,  and  on  the  2Gth  of  August,  1776,  it  was 
defeated  with  great  slaughter  and  almost  routed.  Wash- 
ington escaped  with  the  survivors,  recrossed  to  New  York, 
retreated  to  the  upper  part  of  the  city,  and  narrowly 
escaped  capture,  while  two  thousand  of  his  men  surren- 
dered at  the  extreme  end  of  the  island  —  the  place  being 
now  known  as  Fort  Washington. 

He  forsook  the  city  in  September  and  entered  upon 
that  series  of  terrible  reverses  which  are  so  dark  a  page 
in  Revolutionary  history.  Seven  years  afterward  he  re- 
entered the  city  with  his  triumphant  army,  having  accom- 
plished the  great  end  of  the  war,  and  the  British  who 
once  had  driven  him  out  now  peacefully  yielded  posses- 
sion. After  the  evacuation,  which  took  place  on  Novem- 
ber 25,  1783,  Washington  remained  but  ten  days,  going 
thence  to  Annapolis,  where  he  resigned  to  congress  his 
commission  as  commander-in-chief  of  the  Continental 
army.  Nearly  six  years  afterward  (April,  1789),  he  came 
back  to  the  city  as  the  president  of  the  new  republic,  and 
on  the  30th  of  that  month  he  was  inaugurated.  The 
ceremony  took  place  on  the  balcony  of  Federal  hall,  which 
61 


482  Our  Book. 

stood  on  the  spot  now  occupied  by  the  treasury,  cornei 
Wall  and  Nassau  streets.  He  then  became  a  resident  of  the 
city,  and  for  eighteen  months  dwelt  in  Cherry  street  near 
Franklin  Square,  which  was  then  highly  aristocratic.  He 
kept  a  handsome  establishment  and  drove  in  a  coach  and 
four  to  St.  Paul's  church  on  Sabbath,  using  the  same  con- 
veyance during  the  week  in  traversing  the  distance  be- 
tween his  dwelling  and  his  ofhce,  which  was  three-quarters 
of  a  mile. 

Seventeen  days  after  the  inauguration,  Mrs.  Washing- 
ton arriv-ed,  took  possession  of  the  mansion,  and  opened 
a  series  of  Friday  evening  levees,  which  were  very  popu- 
lar. In  December,  1790,  congress  removed  the  seat  of 
government  to  Philadelphia,  and  after  a  residence  here  of 
eighteen  months  the  Washington  family  departed  for 
their  new  abode.  From  these  statements  we  may  learn 
that  Washington's  entire  residence  in  New  York  was  not 
over  two  years.  The  only  architectual  memorial  of  this 
is  St.  Paul's  church,  where,  as  we  have  said,  he  attended 
service.  His  dwelling  was  demolished  in  the  course  of 
improvements,  and  Federal  hall  was  torn  down  to  make 
way  for  dwellings,  a  new  city  hall  having  been  built  in  the 
park. 

Portraits  of  Washington. 

An  elegant  engraving  of  Washington  was  presented 
on  the  last  anniversary  of  his  birthday  to  the  Citizens' 
Exchange  by  one  of  its  members,  and  this  fact  recalls 
the  subject  of  his  portraits  generally.  The  first  picture 
was  painted  by  Charles  Wilson  Peale  in  1772,  when  the 
original  was  in  his  fortieth  year.  This  picture  is  now  at 
Arlington  House,  or  at  least  was  there  at  the  commence- 
ment of  the  rebellion.  Seven  years  afterward,  in  the 
dark  hours  of  the  revolution,  congress  authorized  the 
game  artist  to  paint  another  portrait,  and  the  French 


Washington's  Portraits.  483 

minister  ordered  five  duplicates  for  presents  to  foreign 
powers.  One  of  these  is  now  in  the  National  Institute, 
and  Chapman  made  two  copies,  for  which  he  received 
$1,000  apiece. 

Peale  made  in  all  fourteen  portraits,  and  saw  his  patron 
under  a  great  variety  of  circumstances.  Kembrandt 
Peale,  son  of  the  above,  had  the  ambition  to  paint  the 
same  head,  and,  although  only  eighteen,  he  obtained  a 
sitting,  but  he  was  so  much  agitated  by  the  august  pres- 
ence that  he  was  compelled  to  ask  his  father's  assistance. 
This  picture  was  purchased  by  congress  for  $2,000, 
Jonathan  Trumbull,  who  has  left  portraits  of  most  of  the 
Revolutionary  heroes,  painted  Washington,  in  1792,  for 
the  "  Surrender  at  Yorktown." 

Gilbert  Stuart  came  from  London  to  Philadelphia,  ex- 
pressly to  paint  Washington's  portrait,  and  an  ample  op- 
portunity afforded.  Stuart  says  that  "  no  human  being 
ever  awoke  in  him  such  a  degree  of  reverence.  For  a 
moment  he  lost  self  possession,  and  it  required  several 
interviews  to  overcome  this  difficulty."  He  made  two 
original  portraits,  of  which  one  became  the  property  of 
Lord  Lansdowne  and  the  other  is  in  the  Boston  Atheneum. 
From  these  he  painted  twenty-six  copies,  which  are  now 
known  as  "  Stuart's  originals,"  and  bear  a  high  value. 
To  these  may  be  added  the  pictures  by  Pine  and  by 
AVertmuller,  both  of  which  are  of  less  importance. 

Statuary. 

An  enthusiastic  Itahan  artist  named  Cerrachi  sought  a 
field  for  his  genius  in  the  new  republic,  and  while  hei-e 
executed  a  bust  of  Washington,  which  was  purchased  by 
the  Spanish  ambassador,  but  its  owner  fell  into  misfor- 
tune, and  Richard  Meade,  who  was  then  in  Spain,  obtained 
it.     Mr.   Meade  was  the  father  of   General  Meade  (of 


484  Our  Book. 

Gettysburg),  who  was  born  in  Spain.  When  Mr.  Meade's 
collection  was  sold,  about  fifteen  years  ago,  the  bust  was 
purchased  by  Governor  Kemble,  of  Cold  Spring,  on  the 
Hudson.  Cerrachi  returned  to  France  and  was  guillotined 
for  conspiring  against  Napoleon. 

The  French  sculptor  Houdon  was  more  successful,  for 
his  effort  reached  the  dignity  of  a  statue.  It  was  exe- 
cuted for  the  State  of  Virginia,  and  Jefferson,  when  em- 
bassador at  Paris,  commissioned  the  artist  to  sail  for 
America.  He  accompanied  Franklin  to  this  country  and 
remained  long  enough  at  Mount  Vernon  to  model  the 
head  and  then  returned  to  Paris,  where  the  statue  was 
completed.  At  that  time  Governeur  Morris  was  in  Paris, 
and  as  he  bore  a  strong  likeness  (in  form  at  least)  to 
Washington,  he  was  employed  to  stand  for  the  artist. 
The  statue  when  finished  was  placed  in  the  State  House 
in  Richmond,  but  a  cast  from  it  now  adorns  the  national 
capitol  at  Washington.  It  is  said  to  be  a  fine  likeness, 
and  at  any  rate  exhibits  a  rare  combination  of  elegance 
and  imposing  dignity.  To  these  may  be  added  the  eques- 
trian statue  in  Union  Place,  which  is  the  finest  work  of 
art  of  that  kind  at  least  in  New  York. 

How  nis  LIFE  WAS  Passed. 
Washington  lived  sixty-eight  years,  which  passed  as 
follows:  Nineteen  years  of  boyhood  and  youth,  termi- 
nating in  his  appointment  to  a  command  in  the  militia ; 
twenty-six  years  of  life  at  Mount  Vernon,  passed  there 
at  different  intervals,  of  which  his  three  last  years  were 
the  happiest ;  fifteen  years  of  military  service,  in  which 
the  seven  years  of  the  Hevolution  is  the  chief  feature ; 
one  year  of  political  service  in  the  formation  of  the  Con- 
stitution, and  eight  years  in  the  presidency.  While  at 
Mount  Vernon,  however,  he  was  to  a  great  degree  a 


National.  485 

public  man,  and  lience  it  may  be  reckoned  that  his  ser- 
vices date  from  his  nineteenth  year,  and  form  a  complete 
half  century. 

Considered  in  a  literary  point  of  view,  his  opportunities 
were  limited,  and  his  education  would  now  be  called  very 
inferior.  The  most  popular  author  was  Pope,  although 
the  Spectator  shared  in  this  to  a  large  degree.  Iluuie's 
History  of  England  was  published  a  few  years  before  the 
revolution,  and  no  doubt  had  a  place  in  the  library  of 
Mount  Vernon.  Compared  with  the  present  advanced 
state  of  culture,  a  man  of  his  limited  attainments  would 
now  be  in  no  small  degree  illiterate.  The  character  of 
"Washington  proves  how  little  art  or  even  education  has 
to  do  in  the  production  of  true  greatness.  The  father 
of  a  nation  M'as  above  all  the  ordinary  accomplishments 
of  intellectual  culture.  This  idea  is  thus  finely  delineated 
by  Uyron : 

such  minds  be  nourished  in  the  wild, 

Deep  in  the  unpruned  forest,  'midst  the  roar 
Of  cataracts,  where  nursing  Nature  smiled 
On  infant  W  ashitigtou. 

The  same  sentiment  applies  to  Lincoln,  Avho  saved  the 
Union  from  those  j)erils  which  Washington  foresaw  and 
so  often  deprecated. 

Memorials  of  Washington. 

Of  the  three  most  important  in  New  York,  one  is  the 
table  exhibited  in  the  city  hall.  It  is  a  large  mahogany 
writing  table,  and  was  in  service  during  the  early  days  of 
the  first  presidency.  Another  is  the  Farewell  Address. 
This  is  bound  elegantly,  and  is  a  manuscript  volume  of 
about  forty  pages.  It  contains  all  the  corrections  in  the 
general's  handwriting,  and  is  the  largest  of  all  his  pro- 
ductions. This  document  passed  as  soon  as  it  had  been 
printed    into  the  hands  of    David   Clay[>oo!e,  of  Phila- 


486  OcTR  Book. 

delpliia,  in  whose  familj  it  remained  until  an  administra- 
tor's sale  brought  it  before  the  public. 

James  Lenox  determined  to  purchase  it,  and  sent  an 
agent  to  outbid  every  one.  The  result  was  that  it  ran  up 
to  $2,000,  at  wh'  h  price  it  became  the  property  of  the 
great  philanthropist,  who  has  made  it  a  part  of  the  Lenox 
Institute,  where  all  desiring  a  view  can  be  gratified. 
The  third  is  St.  Paul's  church,  of  which  I  have  spoken. 
Having  referred  to  the  Farewell  Address,  I  may  speak  of 
one  feature  in  it  which  has  ^ver  been  noticed  in  print. 
It  was  written  and  published  in  Philadelphia,  but  it  is 
signed 

10.VTT  ^r^^'VoA   1  (^EOEGE  Washington. 
19th  September,  1796.  ) 

This  signature  shows  that  he  considered  nationality  the 
great  privilege  of  the  American  in  contradistinction  from 
the  claims  of  any  state.  He  never  spolse  of  himself  as 
a  Yirginian,  and  his  allegiance  to  the  state  was  subordi- 
nate to  that  which  he  owed  to  the  great  republic. 

This  idea  was  repeated  with  more  solemn  importance 
in  his  will,  which  was  written  six  months  before  l?is  death. 
This  instrument  commences  thus  :  "  In  the  name  of  God, 
Amen.  I,  George  Washington,  of  Mount  Vernon,  a 
citizen  of  the  United  States,  and  lately  President  of  the 
same,  do  make  and  declare  this  instrument." 

How  strong  an  antagonism  do  these  words  utter  against 
the  spirit  manifested  in  the  late  rebellion  !  It  was  Vir- 
ginia's departure  from  this  example  which  gave  secession 
a  head  and  front  and  brought  down  upon  the  recreant 
state  such  bloodshed  and  desolation. 

DOTER    STREET    AND    WASHINGTON. 

This  is  certainly  a  strange  combination, for  not  one  ort 
of  a  hundred  of  New  York's  population  have  ever  heard  of 


<  n> 


1,1       I     -« ^Ui  Illicit , «, 


:i# 


*  ^  M  '"'fir IrCt ) Jii . '/ '  *     ^ 


^1 


V/-*' 


<tu 


DOVER    STREET    SHOWING     THE    ANGLES    OF    OLD     FORT. 


Only  War  Relic. 


487 


Doyer  street.  It  is  almost  unknown  to  the  public,  and 
perhaps  with  good  reason,  for  it  is  only  a  few  hundred 
feet  in  length,  a  very  narrow  series  of  angles,  being  the 
crookedest  street  for  its  brevity  in  America.  I  became 
acquainted  with  Doyer  street  during  my  youtli  and  often 
plied  myself  with  many  queries  concerning  its  angles.  I 
thought  surely  there  must  be  some  reason  why  so  short  a 
street  should  not  be  straight,  especially  as  none  of  the 
neighboring  streets  are  irregular.  Well,  these  queries 
continually  occurred  as  I  revisited  the  spot,  for  I  felt  fas- 
cinated by  the  very  strangeness  of  the  place  —  but  at  last 
an  explanation  was  suggested  which  leads  me  to  connect 


Doyer  street  with  Washington.  History  states  that  when 
the  latter  endeavored  to  hold  the  city  against  the  British 
in  1776,  he  erected  ten  forts,  which  Irving  mentions  as 
follows : 


488  Ouii  Book. 

The  Grand  Battery  at  south  part  of  the  town. 
Fort  George  immediately  above  it. 
Whitehall  Battery  on  tiie  left  of  Grand  Battery, 
Oyster  Battery  behind  Washington's  headquarters. 
Grenadier  Battery  on  North  River. 
Jersey  Battery  on  the  left  of  Grenadier  Battery. 
Bayard's  Redoubt  on  Bayard's  Hill. 
Spencer's  Redoubt. 
Waterbury's  Battery. 

Badlam's  Redoubt,  eight  guns,  on  Chatham  street  near  Jew's 
burying  ground. 

The  mention £)f  the  battery  in  connection  with  the  Jews' 
burying  ground,  adds  much  to  my  theory,  for  that  mortu- 
ary spot  occupied  one  side  of  Chatham  square.  It  is  my 
opinion  that  Doyer  street  is  the  rear  line  of  the  above- 
mentioned  redoubt  which  had  the  extraordinary  armament 
of  eight  guns  because  of  its  great  importance.  It  com- 
manded tlie  Bowery,  which  then  was  almost  the  only  way 
of  entrance  and  exit,  for  at  that  time  Broadway  was  only 
open  to  the  city  hall  park,  and  the  west  side  of  the  city 
had  no  road  because  of  its  swamps.  The  reader  will  see 
from  the  map,  which  I  obtained  from  the  city  surveyor, 
that  the  plat  skirted  by  Doyer  street  would  be  available 
for  defense.  The  Bowery  at  that  time  was  not  so  clearly 
defined  as  at  present,  and  it  is  probable  that  the  east  part 
of  the  fort  was  cut  away  in  order  to  straighten  the 
street. 

When  Pell  street  was  opened  the  northern  part  of  the 
fort  must  also  have  been  cut  away.  It  is  my  theory,  how- 
ever, that  a  track  and  roadway  was  formed  along  the  west- 
ern angles,  which  soon  became  confirmed  by  time  and 
custom,  thus  forming  Doyer  street.  A  dozen  histories  of 
New  York  have  been  written,  bat  none  of  them  meution 
this  curious  feature,  which  I  now  venture  to  pronounce 
the  most  interesting  relic  New  York  contains  of  the  war  of 
independence. 


Washington's  First  Love.  4S9 

One  of  the  historic  graves  in  St.  Paul's  church  yard  is 
that  of  Beverly  Robinson,  whose  name  is  connected  with 
the  Arnold  and  Andre  treason.  He  built  what  was  called 
the  "  Robinson  house,"  which  was  Arnold's  headquarters 
at  the  time  of  his  attempt  to  betray  West  Point.  Be- 
neath the  general  outline  of  this  affair  there  is  a  thread 
of  family  history  which  gives  this  grave  special  interest. 
The  Robinsons  were  an  aristocratic  Virginia  house,  and 
two  brothers  of  the  name  reached  prominence  in  the 
olden  time.  John  Robinson  became  speaker  of  the 
House  of  Burgesses,  while  Beverly  came  to  New  York 
and  married  Susan  Phillipse,  a  distinguished  heiress. 
He  became  a  favorite  with  British  gentry,  and  very 
naturally  joined  the  royalists  at  the  beginning  of  the 
Revolution,  thus  forfeiting  one  of  the  grandest  estates  on 
the  Hudson. 

In  1756  Washington,  at  the  age  of  twenty-four,  made 
a  horseback  journey  from  Mount  Yernon  to  New  York, 
and  Beverly  Robinson  opened  his  house  to  one  who  had 
been  the  friend  of  his  youth.  While  there  Washington 
met  another  gnest,  whose  charms  he  immediately  acknowl- 
edged. This  was  Mary  Phillipse,  sister  of  Mrs.  Robinson, 
and  heir  to  half  of  a  grand  estate.  It  is  said  that  Wash- 
ington was  so  captivated  with  his  new  acquaintance  that 
he  made  matrimonial  advances,  which  were  declined. 
He  was  of  fine  peisonal  appearance,  and  had  won  distinc- 
tion by  his  bravery  at  Braddock's  defeat,  but  an  heiress 
and  a  beauty  could  hardly  consent  to  be  buried  from  the 
world  on  a  Yirginia  plantation. 

In  addition,  it  may  be  said  that  among  her  suitors  was 
another  hero  of  the  same  company.  This  was  Captain 
Roger  Morris,  who,  like  Washington,  had  been  on  Brad- 
dock's   staff.     It  was   an  unexpected   reunion  of   these 

young  soldiers,  who,  though  formerly  united  on  the  field 

G3 


490  Our  Book. 

of  battle,  were  now  rivals  in  the  field  of  love.  Captain 
Morris  eventually  proved  the  conqueror,  and  two  years 
afterward  he  carried  off  the  blooming  heiress  as  his  bride. 

Old  Manor  House. 

Thej  were  married  at  the  Pliillipse  manor  house,  which 
now  stands  in  the  center  of  Yonkers,  and  has  become  the 
city  hall.  It  is  one  of  the  few  remaining  ante-revolu- 
tionary buildings,  and  probably  will  long  be  preserved  as 
a  memorial  of  colonial  times. 

The  Phillipse  family  sprang  from  a  distinguished  Dutch 
colonist,  who  settled  there  in  1682,  and  obtained  an  exten- 
sive patent,  his  manor  indeed  being  the  grandest  in  that 
part  of  the  State.  The  manor  house  was  begun  soon 
after  the  issue  of  the  land  grant,  but  its  completion  was 
only  reached  through  varied  stages  of  progress.  The 
present  front  was  built  in  1745,  and  is  the  finest  display 
of  the  architecture  of  that  age. 

Looking  inside  one  finds  that  the  Dutch  style  prevails 
throughout.  It  is  wainscoted  in  the  best  method  of  work- 
manship, and  the  ceilings  are  wrought  in  arabesque  work. 
The  carved  marble  mantels  are  also  specimens  of  the  lux- 
ury of  a  day  when,  perhaps,  they  were  not  equaled  in  the 
country.  The  bed-rooms  are  also  paneled,  and  the  fine 
view  of  the  river  adds  much  to  its  charms. 

In  addition  to  this  establishment  the  family  had  what 
was  called  "Castle  Phillipse"  at  Sleepy  Hollow,  which 
was  also  a  favorite  resort,  but  the  Yonkers  manor  house 
always  retained  its  supremacy.  Mary  Phillipse  —  after- 
ward Mrs.  Morris  —  was  b'  >rn  at  the  manor  house  in 
1730,  and  hence  was  two  years  older  than  Washington. 
Her  father,  Frederick  Phillipse,  was  speaker  of  the  house 
of  assembly,  and  was  commonly  called  Lord  of  the 
Manor.  His  two  daughters,  whose  marriage  has  been 
mentioned,  found  their  expectations  broken  by  the  Revo- 


National.  491 

lution.  Frederick  Phillipse  and  all  his  family  held  alle- 
giance to  the  crown,  and  his  two  sons-in  law,  Robinson 
and  Morris,  became  colonels  in  the  British  army. 

The  property  w^as  confiscated,  and  most  of  the  family 
fled  to  England,  where  Frederick  Phillipse  died  in  1785. 
Mary  Phillipse  Morris  is  the  original  of  Frances  in 
Cooper's  novel  of  The  Spy.  There  is  still  in  existence 
a  beautiful  portrait  of  this  interesting  character,  which 
for  many  years  was  owned  by  her  grandniece,  Mrs.  Sam- 
uel L.  Gouverneur. 

Colonel  Morris  being  in  military  service  could  not  live 
so  far  from  New  York,  and  he  therefore  built  in  the  lower 
part  of  the  manor  the  finest  dwelling  between  Yonkers 
and  the  city.  It  was  the  expectation  of  the  newly-wed- 
ded pair  that  it  would  be  a  permanent  residence,  but  the 
colonial  troubles  soon  convinced  them  of  their  mistake. 
The  time  came  when  Washington  and  his  retreating 
American  army  passed  that  very  manor  house,  whose  in- 
mates had  gone  never  to  return.  Perhaps  amid  all  the 
confusion  of  that  time  of  disma}'^,  as  the  patriot  chieftain 
gazed  upon  the  building,  he  may  have  recalled  the  mem- 
ory of  his  early  love. 

After  the  He  volution  the  place  was  sold  and  went 
through  several  owners,  until  it  fell  into  the  possession  of 
Stephen  Jumel.  Such  is  the  history  of  that  estate  which 
has  become  so  notorious  in  the  annals  of  litigation.  Ju- 
mel gave  $10,000  for  the  house  and  one  hundred  acres  of 
land,  which  are  now  worth  millions. 

Washington's  Makkiage. 

Many  inquiries  have  been  suggested  concerning  Wash- 
ington's love  matters,  I  have  already  mentioned  that  he 
was  attracted  by  the  charming  Mary  Phillipse,  who  fasci- 
nated him  in  New  York,  but  who  was  carried  off  by  Cap- 


402  Ol'r  Booit. 

tain  Morris.  In  his  next  love  affair  Washington  was  more 
fortunate.  Two  years  had  elapsed  since  he  parted  from 
Miss  Phillipse,  when,  while  engaged  in  military  service 
near  Whitehoiise,  he  met  a  gentleman  named  Chambcr- 
layne  who  invited  him  to  dinner.  Washington  was  hardly 
able  to  spare  the  time,  but  at  last  yielded  to  the  urgent  re- 
quest, little  dreaming  of  the  influence  the  occasion  would 
exercise  over  his  future  destiny. 

He  met  at  the  table  a  beautiful  widow  about  two  years 
his  junior,  whose  maiden  name  was  Dandridge,  but  who 
had  in  early  life  married  Daniel  Park  Custis.  The  latter 
had  been  dead  three  years  and  had  left  her  two  fine  chil- 
dren and  a  large  fortune.  She  is  described  as  below  the 
middle  size,  bat  elegantly  shaped,  with  an  attractive  coun- 
tenance, dark  hazel  eyes,  and  those  agreeable  manners  so 
common  among  Virginian  la^lies  of  the  olden  time.  Wash- 
ington at  once  felt  the  charms  of  this  new  acquaintance. 
It  was  really  love  at  first  sight. 

Instead  of  leaving  Chamberlayne's  in  haste  he  waited 
till  the  next  morning  and  departed  only  with  the  inten- 
tion of  meetinf;  a2:ain.  He  was  stationed  for  a  short  time 
in  that  vicinity,  and  before  he  left  he  had  sought  her 
hand  and  been  accepted.  All  that  interfered  with  their 
union  was  militaiy  duty,  and  when  this  had  been  accom- 
plished they  were  married.  This  occurred  January  6, 
1759,  at  the  residence  of  the  bride,  and  it  was  a  union  of 
unbroken  harmony  through  life.  Mrs.  Washington  sur- 
vived her  husband  nearly  three  years  and  was  buried  by 
his  side. 

Lady  Washington  —  A  Correction. 

I  notice  that  an  illustrated  paper  honors  Washington's 
birth-day  by  issuing  an  admirable  copy  of  Huntington's 
picture,  sometimes  called  Lady  Washington's  Recep- 
tion.    I  refer  to  this  fine  work  of  art  chiefly  to  correct 


Kational.  4-93 

that  increasing  vulgarism  of  styling  the  wife  of  our  great 
liberator  "  Lady  Washington."  This  is  not  only  in- 
correct, but  is  thoroughly  un-repubhcan,  and,  as  such, 
would  have  been  censured  by  Washington  himself.  His 
wife  was,  of  course,  a  lady,  in  the  ordinary  use  of  the 
word,  but  she  was  not  "  Lady  "  Washington,  for  that  title 
belongs  solely  to  British  aristocracy.  The  highest  title 
wiiich  can  properly  be  given  to  the  wife  of  our  first  presi- 
dent is  Mrs.  Washington,  and  any  thing  beyond  this  is  mere 
snobbery. 

Father  of  His  Country. 

The  reader  may  be  interested  to  know  the  first  use  of 
this  title  in  America.  The  earliest  that  I  find  it  is  in  an 
address  delivered  to  the  victorious  general  by  a  committee 
of  the  militia  of  the  county  of  Somerset,  New  Jersey,  and 
dated  New  Brunswick,  November  18,  17^3.  In  this  the 
committee  says  of  the  militia  "they  revere  your  character 
and  regard  you  as  the  Father  of  your  Country." 

Byron's  Eulogy. 

National  pride  did  much  at  first  to  prevent  the  British 
mind  from  yieldhig  due  honor  to  one  who  had  humbled 
the  crown,  but  when  Lord  Lyons  and  the  Prince  of  Wales 
visited  the  tomb  at  Mount  Vernon,  it  was  a  tribute  which 
expressed  the  full  homage  to  departed  greatness.  This 
incident  teaches  us  that  all  men  who  truly  serve  their  race 
must  await  the  verdict  of  posterity. 

It  may  be  mentioned  in  this  connection  that  Washing- 
ton's first  eulogist  among  foreign  literati  was  Byron,  and 
notwithstanding  the  poet's  perversion  on  moral  questions 
he  could  not  but  admire  the  hero  of  the  young  republic. 
A  striking  illustration  of  this  is  found  in  the  closing  verse 
of  the  Ode  to  Napoleon  : 


494  OuK  Book. 

Where  may  the  wearied  eye  repose, 

When  gazing  on  the  great? 
Where  neither  guilty  glory  glows, 

Nor  despicable  state  ; 
Yes,  one  —  the  first  —  the  last  —  the  best  — 
The  Cincinnatus  of  the  west, 

Whom  envy  dare  not  hate. 
Bequeathed  the  name  of  Washington, 
To  make  man  blush  there  was  but  one. 

Really,  however,  the  finest  poetic  tribute  to  Washings 
ton  was  written  by  Richard  Grant  White,  and  it  certainly 
deserves  a  place  in  this  connection  : 

High  over  all  whom  might  or  mind  made  great. 

Yielding  the  conqueror's  crown  to  harder  hearts, 

Exalted  not  by  politicians'  arts, 
Tet  with  a  will  to  meet  and  master  fate. 
And.  skill  to  rule  a  young,  divided  state, 

Greater  by  what  was  not  than  by  what  was  done, 

Alone  on  History's  height  stands  Washington; 
And  teeming  time  shall  not  bring  forth  his  mate. 
For  only  he,  of  men,  on  earth  was  sent 

In  all  the  might  of  mind's  integrity; 
Ne'er  as  in  him  truth,  strength  and  wisdom  blent; 

And  that  his  glory  might  eternal  be, 
A  boundless  country  is  his  monument, 

A  mighty  nation  his  posterity. 

Washington's  Death. 

Washington  was  endowed  with  great  personal  vigor 
and  enjoyed  a  degree  of  health  seldom  maintained  during 
so  long  a  period  of  life.  Sixty-eight  years  without  a 
day's  illness !  This  certainly  was  remarkable.  When 
disease,  however,  came,  it  was  rapidly  fatal,  and  one  day 
was  sufficient  to  remove  this  venerated  patriot.  On  the 
13th  of  December,  1799,  he  complained  of  a  sore  throat. 
The  day  previously  he  had  taken  a  horseback  ride  around 
the  plantation,  during  which  it  rained  and  he  had  no 
doubt  become  thoroughly  chilled,  but  in  the  evening  he 
appeared  as  well  as  usual.  The  sore  tliroat  above  men- 
tioned, being  the  natural  result  of  such  an  exposure,  oc- 


Washington's  Death  Bed.  495 

casioned  no  alarm,  and  in  the  afternoon  he  walked  out  to 
give  some  directions  concerning  the  grounds. 

On  his  return  to  the  house  his  hoarseness  became  worse, 
but  he  was  a  cheerful  member  of  the  family  circle  and 
as  usual  conversed  with  Mrs.  Washington  and  his  secre- 
tary (Mr.  Lear)  on  the  news  of  the  day.  On  his  retiring 
for  the  night  the  latter  suggested  that  he  should  take 
something  to  relieve  the  cold.  The  general,  however, 
declined  with  the  remark,  "  Let  it  go  as  it  came.  You 
know  I  never  take  any  thing  for  a  cold."  Little  indeed  did 
they  think  that  in  that  trifling  cold  there  lurked  such 
fearful  danger. 

The  next  morning  the  general  was  very  ill  indeed. 
During  the  night  the  symptoms  had  increased,  and  before 
three  o'clock  difficulty  in  breathing  set  in.  At  day  break 
the  servant  woman  entered  the  bedroom  to  make  fire  as 
usual,  and  she  was  then  told  to  call  Mr.  Lear.  The  latter 
came  immediately  and  found  Washington  in  a  very  criti- 
cal condition.  The  change  since  the  previous  evening 
indeed  was  fearfully  distressing.  The  old  hero  could 
hardly  draw  an  easy  breath,  while  his  powers  of  speech 
had  failed,  so  it  was  difficult  to  understand  his  occasional 
utterances. 

Enough  was  gathered  to  know  that  Dr.  Craik  was  to 
be  sent  for  and  also  that  one  of  the  overseers  (who  had 
some  knowledge  of  surgery)  should  bleed  him.  Verj-^ 
strange  that  one,  who  a  few  hours  previously  could  say, 
"  let  it  go  as  it  came,"  should  thus  be  compelled  to  call 
for  such  treatment  ?  W  hen  the  arm  was  exposed  the 
overseer  hesitated  to  use  the  lancet,  but  the  honored  in- 
valid said  in  a  broken  manner  "  don't  be  afraid."  Blood 
was  drawn  until  Mrs.  Washington  interposed  and  asked 
Mr.  Lear  to  stop  the  flow,  but  Washington  feebly  said, 
"  more,  more."     The  flow,  however,  was  stopped  and  his 


iOG  Our  Book. 

feet  were  placed  in  wartn  water  while  the  throat  was 
treated  witli  external  applications,  for  he  was  unable  to 
use  a  gargle.  The  latter,  indeed,  had  almost  produced 
suffocation. 

Death  Appeoaching, 

Three  hours  had  elapsed  since  the  first  alarm  was  given 
and  by  nine  o'clock.  Dr.  Craik,  of  Georgetown,  was  in 
attendance,  with  two  other  physicians.  They  applied 
their  best  remedies  and  also  additional  bleeding,  but  no 
rehef  was  obtained.  Washington  evidently  was  convinced 
that  his  end  was  at  hand  and  in  the  course  of  the  after- 
noon directed  his  wife  to  bring  him  two  wills  from  his 
desk.  One  of  these  was  burned  at  his  request,  while  the 
other  was  restored  to  its  place. 

Just  twenty-four  hours  previously  Washington  liad 
been  out  on  the  plantation,  but  now  he  was  dying !  How 
startling  and  how  sudden  !  Mr.  Lear  thus  describes  the 
solemn  scene  :  *'  As  I  gently  grasped  the  hand  of  the 
general,  the  latter  feebly  said,  '  I  find  I  am  going ;  my 
breath  cannot  last  long.  Do  you  arrange  and  record  all 
my  military  papers.  Arrange  my  accounts  and  settle  my 
books  as  you  know  more  about  them  than  any  one  else.' 
I  told  him  this  should  be  done. 

"lie  then  asked  if  I  could  recollect  any  thing  which  it 
was  essential  for  him  to  do,  as  he  had  but  a  very  short 
time  to  remain  Mntli  us,  and  he  looked  to  the  final  event 
with  perfect  resignation."  As  he  was  in  great  distress  by 
reason  of  difiiculty  in  breathing,  Mr.  Lear  raised  him  and 
occasionally  changed  his  position  Avhich  awoke  expressions 
of  gratitude.  "  I  hope,"  said  he,  "  that  when  you  need 
such  assistance  you  will  find  it." 

Closing  Scene. 
That  14th  of  December,  1799,  was  a  long  and   sol- 
emn day  of  watching,  and  the  physicians  rarely  left  the 


Washington's  Death  Bed.  497 

room.  They  saw  tliat  dissolution  was  approacliing  and 
all  felt  awed  to  solemn  silence.  At  sunset  Dr.  Craik  ap- 
proached the  bed  and  the  general,  while  gazing  on  his 
countenance,  said  in  a  broken  tone,  ''  Doctor,  I  die  hard, 
i)ut  am  not  afraid  to  go."  The  sorrowing  physician  only 
replied  by  a  silent  pressure  of  the  hand.  At  six  on  that 
evening,  which  closed  liis  ilhistrious  career,  he  sat  up  in 
bed  and  again  remarked,  "  I  feel  that  I  am  going.  I 
thank  yon  for  yonr  attentions,  but  I  ask  yon  to  take  no 
more  trouble  about  me.  Let  mo  go  off  quietly,  I  cannot 
last  long."  At  ten  o'clock  ho  made  several  ineffectual 
attempts  to  speak,  but  at  1  tst  Lear  made  out  tlie  dying 
man's  expressions.  ''  I  am  just  going.  Have  me  decently 
buried  and  do  not  let  my  body  be  put  into  the  earth  until 
three  days  after  I  am  dead." 

A  half  lionr  then  elapsed  and  his  breathing  was  noticed 
as  being  easier,  but  Lear  saw  that  his  countenance  was 
changing.  ''  I  called,"  said  he,  "  Dr.  Craik,  v.'ho  sat  by 
the  fire.  lie  came  to  the  bedside  ;  the  general  was  gone. 
As  his  hand  dropped  I  took  it  in  mine  and  pressed  it  to 
my  bosom,  while  Dr.  Craik  put  his  hands  over  his  eyes 
to  conceal  his  tears.  While  we  were  fixed  in  silent  grief, 
Mrs.  Washington  (who  sat  at  the  foot  of  the  bed) 
asked  in  a  firm  and  composed  voice,  '  Is  he  gone  ?  'Tis 
well,'  she  added,  as  she  saw  my  signal  (for  I  could  not 
speak);  '  all  is  now  over;  I  shall  soon  follow  him;  my 
trials  will  soon  be  over.'"  IIow  much  such  a  scene 
as  the  above  recalls  the  picture  drawn  by  Longfel- 
low : 

As  thus  the  dying  warrior  prayerl 
Without  one  gathering  mist  or  shade 

Upon  his  mind. 
Encircled  by  his  family, 
Watclied  l)y  affection's  gentle  eye, 
So  soft  and  kind. 
6.^ 


498  Our  Book. 

His  soul  to  God  who  gave  it  rose, 
God  led  it  to  its  long  repose, 

Its  glorious  rest. 
Aud  though  the  warrior's  sun  is  set, 
Its  light  shall  linger  round  us  yet, 

Bright,  radiant,  blest. 

The  Funeral. 

On  the  Wednesday  following  the  hero's  death  the  fu, 
iieral  ceremonies  took  place.  They  were  of  a  simple  but 
impressive  character,  and  I  make  the  following  extract 
from  one  of  the  published  reports  : 

On  Wednesday  last  the  mortal  part  of  Washington,  the  father 
of  our  country  and  the  friend  of  man,  was  consigned  to  the  tomb 
with  solemn  honors  and  funeral  pomp.  A  multitude  of  persons 
assembled  from  many  miles  around  at  Mount  Vernon  —  the  choice 
abode  and  last  residence  of  the  illustrious  chief.  There  were  the 
groves,  the  spacious  avenues,  the  beautiful  scenes  and  the  noble 
mansion  —  but,  alas,  the  august  inliabitant  was  no  more.  That 
great  soul  was  gone.  His  mortal  part  was  there  indeed,  but  ah ! 
how  affecting,  how  awful  the  spectacle.  In  the  long  and  lofty 
portico  where  oft  the  hero  walked,  now  lay  his  shrouded  corpse, 
the  countenance  still  composed  and  serene,  and  there  tlie  assem- 
blage took  its  last  farewell.  At  the  head  of  the  coffin  was  the 
inscription  "  Surge  ad  Judicium,"  and  on  the  silver  plate: 

General 

George  Washington — 

Departed  this  life  on  the  14th  December,  1799 

JE  68. 

Between  three  and  four  o'clock  the  sound  of  artillery  from  a 
vessel  in  the  river  firing  minute  guns,  revived  our  solemn  sorrow. 
The  coffin  was  moved  bearing  the  hero's  sword  and  gloves,  and 
the  band  played  a  suitable  dirge  which  melted  the  soul  in  the  ten- 
derness of  woe. 

The  procession  moved  in  the  following  order:  cavalry,  infantry, 
guards  with  arms  reversed,  music,  clergy,  the  general's  horse  with 
saddle,  holsters  and  pistols,  the  corpse,  pall-bearers,  mourners  and 
citizens.  When  the  procession  had  reached  the  family  vault  on 
tlie  banks  of  the  Potomac,  the  cavalry  halted,  while  the  infantry 
marched  forward  and  formed  a  hollow  square.  The  clergy  then 
performed  the  service  of  the  church,  assisted  by  those  present  — 
the  firing  was  repeated  from  the  vessel  and  the  sounds  echoed 
from  the  surrounding  hills.  Three  discharges  from  the  infantry 
and  the  artillery  which  lined  the  Potomac,  concluded  the  cere- 
mony and  paid  the  last  tribute  to  the  departed  hero. 

The  disease  with  which  Washino'ton   died  has  been 


Kational.  499 

much  discussed,  being  sometimes  called  diphtheria,  but  the 
best  opinion  designates  it  as  acute  laryngitis,  which  is 
of  rare  occurrence.  The  death  took  place  on  Saturday 
night  the  14:th  of  December,  and  by  Monday  it  was 
known  in  Baltimore,  where  a  public  meeting  was  called 
to  take  appropriate  action  in  reference  to  so  solemn  an 
event.  Before  the  close  of  the  week  the  news  reached 
New  York  where  a  grand  procession  was  held  in  honor  of 
his  memory.  General  Hamilton  served  as  grand  marshal, 
and  Colonel  Fish,  father  of  Hamilton  Fish,  was  one  of  the 
pall-bearers.  St.  Paul's  church,  where  Washington  wor- 
shipped daring  his  residence  in  that  city,  was  the  scene 
of  the  eulogy  which  was  delivered  to  a  crowded  audience. 
Congress  also  ordered  a  funeral  eulogy,  which  was  de- 
livered by  Colonel  Henry  Lee,  who  had  been  one  of 
Washington's  body  guard.  In  the  closing  paragraph  of 
this  address  we  find  those  oft-quoted  words :  First 
in  war,  first  in  peace,  and  first  in  the  hearts  of  his 
countrymen. 

Battle  of  New  Orleans. 

This  action  was,  on  the  part  of  the  British,  a  gross 
military  blunder,  only  equaled  by  the  charge  of  the  light 
brigade  at  Balaklava.  There  was  no  chance  of  success, 
and  Packenham  only  marched  his  veterans  into  a  vast 
slaughter-pen.  On  the  part  of  the  Americans,  however, 
it  was  the  brilliant  termination  of  a  series  of  stupendous 
efforts  to  protect  an  almost  defenceless  port.  This  re- 
quired all  that  nerve,  energy  and  apparent  recklessness 
which  really  rendered  Jackson  equal  to  the  emergency. 
When  he  took  command  at  New  Orleans  public  affairs 
were  almost  in  a  state  of  anarchy,  and  yet  under  such  un- 
favorable conditions  he  organized  a  defense  which  proved 
impregnable. 


500  Our  Book. 

The  battle  of  New  Orleans  led  Aaron  Burr  to  nominate 
Jackson  for  the  presidency,  but  Old  Hickory  was  not 
elected  until  after  the  lapse  of  thirteen  years.  Whatever 
may  have  been  Jackson's  errors,  it  is  evident  that  his  iron 
will  was  of  immense  value  to  the  nation  though  it 
occasionally  led  to  great  risks.  When,  for  instance, 
he  hung  Ambrister  and  Arbuthnot  for  selling  powder 
to  the  Indians,  he  nearly  involved  our  country  in  a 
third  war  with  Great  Britain  —  but  the  same  nerve  and 
decision  saved  New  Orleans,  and  also  crushed  nulHtica- 
tion. 

Telegraphic  Advantage. 

Had  the  ocean  cable  been  in  operation  when  the  attack 
was  made  on  New  Orleans  it  would  have  saved  us  the 
horror  of  that  field  of  slaughter.  In  other  words,  the 
battle  of  New  Orleans  was  fought  a  fortnight  after  the 
treaty  of  Ghent  had  been  signed  —  the  date  of  the  latter 
being  December  21,  1814. 

Another  bloody  scene  which  would  have  been  avoided 
had  the  telegraph  then  existed,  was  the  battle  of  Tou- 
louse, fought  by  Wellington  and  Soult. 

It  occurred  on  the  10th  of  April,  1814,  a  few  days 
after  Napoleon  had  been  forced,  by  incessant  defeat,  to 
abdicate  the  throne.  Three  words  from  a  telegraph  bat- 
tery would,  on  each  of  these  terrible  occasions,  have  si- 
lenced the  batteries  in  the  field.  In  this  manner  science 
so  often  proves  the  handmaid  of  mercy.  The  diflSculties 
which  our  government  was  obliged  to  suffer  from  dis- 
tances, is  thus  shown  by  Niles  Kegister,  July  4,  1812,  "On 
the  day  after  the  declaration  of  war,  Mr.  Cozzens  left 
Washington  for  New  Orleans  with  despatches.  He  had 
contracted  to  reach  that  place  in  twelve  days.  Distance 
about  1,500  miles." 


DEWrrT  Clinton.  601 

He  was  admitted  to  the  bar  of  this  city  the  year  before 
Washington  was  inaugurated.  Thus,  at  the  age  of  nine- 
teen, began  that  jnibhc  career  which  is  now  so  prominent 
a  part  of  our  national  history.  His  advance  was  rapid, 
and  at  the  age  of  thirty-two  he  was  a  member  of  the 
United  States  senate.  He  was  afterward  mayt-r  of  New 
York,  and  later  on  held  a  seat  in  the  State  senate,  and 
was  also  lieutenant-governor.  He  then  became  a  lead- 
ing candidate  for  the  presidency,  but  was  defeated  by 
Madison.  His  public  life  indeed  was  full  of  vicissitude, 
and  he  suffered  an  unusual  share  of  party  hate. 

In  1816,  when  in  his  forty -seventh  year,  he  was  elected 
governor,  and  his  long-cherished  scheme  of  the  Erie  canal 
was  immediately  prosecuted.  On  the  next  Fourth  of 
July  he  broke  ground  with  his  own  hand  for  this  grand 
enterprise,  and  eight  years  afterward  he  saw  its  com- 
pletion. He  died  suddenly  in  liis  sixtieth  year,  and  his 
funeral  was  the  most  impressive  mortuary  occasion  Albany 
had  ever  witnessed. 

Financial  Misfortunes. 

Clinton,  like  Hamilton,  Jefferson,  Monroe  and  other 
public  men  of  devoted  character,  died  poor.  After  forty 
years  of  public  life  he  had  not  made  enough  to  pay  his 
debts.  While  the  world  has  re-echoed  the  fame  of  De- 
Witt  Clinton,  how  strange  it  seems  to  think  that  he  died 
almost  under  tlie  hands  of  the  sheriff.  This  is  shown  by 
tlie  following  extract  from  the  Albany  Advertiser,  printed 
May  21,  1828,  nearly  four  months  after  the  death  of  this 
great  national  benefactor : 

Sheriff's  sale.  By  virtue  of  a  writ  of  fieri  facias  I  have  seized 
and  taken  all  the  personal  property  of  DeWitt  Clinton,  consisting 
of  household  furniture,  library,  carriages,  horses  and  other  arti- 
cles, which  I  shall  expose  for  sale  at  public  vendue   on  Wednes- 


502  OuK  Book. 

day,  the  28th  day  of  May  inst.,  at  10  o'clock  in  the  forenoon,  at 
the  dwelling  house  late  of  the  said  DeWitt  Clinton,  deceased,  sit- 
uate at  the  corner  of  North  Pearl  and  Steuben  streets,  in  the  city 
of  Albany.  N.  B.  For  the  accommodation  of  the  public  tlie  sale 
of  the  library  will  be  adjourned  until  the  next  day,  Thursday,  the 
29th,  when  it  will  take  place  at  the  long  room  of  the  Atheneum 
at  9  o'clock,  A.  M. 

C.  A.  Ten  Eyck,  Sheriff,  May  23,  1828. 

Clinton  had  been  grand  master  of  tlie  grand  lodge  of 
this  State,  and  the  latter  displayed  its  affectionate  regard 
by  purchasing  a  pair  of  splendid  vases  at  the  above-men- 
tioned auction.  The  price  paid  was  $600,  which  was  not 
one-quarter  of  their  real  value.  The  lodge  then  pre- 
sented them  to  the  family  as  a  token  of  remembrance  as 
well  as  sympathy. 

One  of  the  most  impressive,  as  well  as  instructive 
features  in  CHnton  history,  is  the  humilation  basely  in- 
flicted by  the  legislature  under  political  pressure — fol- 
lowed by  glorious  triumphs.  I  shall  speak  of  this  later 
on  as  a  grand  lesson  to  all  public  men. 

Robert  Fulton. 

Fulton's  life,  though  it  reached  a  full  half  century, 
seems  short,  since  he  did  not  live  long  enough  to  realize 
his  expectations.  He  died  in  the  midst  of  important 
schemes,  being  then  at  the  mere  inception  of  that  work 
which  conferred  such  benefits  upon  mankind.  Before 
the  construction  of  his  first  steamboat  he  passed  fifteen 
years  in  England  and  France,  whence  he  returned  to  New 
York  in  1807.  He  was  then  forty-two  and  had  matured 
all  his  plans  for  the  great  experiment  —  for  though  bred 
an  artist  he  had  for  years  been  an  enthusiast  on  steam 
navigation. 

Being  assisted  by  Livingston's  capital,  he  at  once  begun 
his  life  work.  The  keel  of  the  Clermont  was  laid  at  the 
ship-yard  in  the  East  river,  and  an  engine,  imported  fron^ 


National.  503 

Birmingliam,  was  placed  in  position  as  soon  as  the  boat 
w'as  launched.  On  the  first  of  August,  1807,  only  seven 
months  after  Fulton's  return,  the  strange  vessel  Mas 
finished,  and  the  seventh  of  that  month  witnessed  her 
trial  trip  up  the  Hudson.  She  was  at  first  called  "  Ful- 
ton's folly,"  and  the  inventor  had  to  suffer  a  full  share  of 
that  ridicule  .which  so  generally  attends  such  experi- 
ments. 

E.EGULAB  Service. 

The  first  voyage  of  the  Clermont,  though  successful,  was 
by  no  means  a  sufficient  trial,  and  the  practical  nature  of 
the  invention  was  still  a  matter  of  uncertainty.  In  order 
to  perfect  the  test,  arrangements  were  made  for  regular 
service,  which  began  on  the  fourth  of  the  following 
month.  It  was  Friday,  and  Fulton  must  have  preferred 
this  day  since  the  trial  trip  occurred  on  Friday  —  just 
four  weeks  previously.  The  wharf  was  at  the  foot  of 
Cedar  street  and  the  starting  hour  was  half-past  six  in  the 
morning.  Great  crowds  came  to  witness  the  departure 
of  the  strange  craft  and  many  ill-bodings  were  uttered. 
One  of  the  passengers  indeed  was  thus  addressed  by  a 
friend  :  "  John,  will  thee  risk  thy  life  in  such  a  concern  ? 
I  tell  thee  she  is  the  most  fearful  wild  iowl  living  and 
thy  father  ought  to  restrain  thee." 

The  Clermont  had  only  twelve  berths,  each  of  which 
was  taken.  The  fare  was  $Y,  a  sum  which,  owhig  to  the 
scarcity  of  money,  was  more  than  double  the  amount  at 
the  present  time.  The  bow  was  covered  by  a  rude  deck 
which  afforded  protection  to  the  hands,  and  the  vessel 
was  steered  by  the  old-fasiiioned  rudder.  Directly  in 
front  of  the  helmsman  was  the  entrance  of  the  cabin, 
which  was  very  rudely  furnished. 

In  fact  the  Clermont  was  built  solely  as  an  experiment, 


504  Our  Book. 

and  everything  was  very  iiiiperfec^t.  The  valves  leakovl 
and  steam  whizzed  from  crevices  in  the  boiler,  and 
this,  with  the  black  smoke  vomited  from  the  chim- 
ney, gave  the  vessel  a  repulsive  appearance;  and  yet. 
as  she  moved  slowly  up  the  river,  the  vast  crowd  ut- 
tered an  irrepressible  huzza,  which  was  returned  by 
cheers  of  all  on  board  except  one.  This  was  Fulton, 
who  stood  in  silent  self-consciousness  of  a  grand  suc- 
cess. 

At  West  Point  the  boat  was  cheered  by  the  garrison. 
By  four  o'clock  they  made  Newburgh,  a  distance  of  sixty- 
tlu*ee  miles.  The  next  day,  at  eleven,  they  reached  Albany, 
making  the  entire  distance  in  twenty-eight  hours  and 
forty -five  minutes.  This  was  the  Clermont's  second  ap- 
pearance in  Albany,  but  being  the  beginning  of  her  regu- 
lar service,  the  following  certificate  was  signed  by  the 
passengers : 

The  subscribers,  passengers  on  board  of  this  boat  on  her  first 
passage  as  a  packet,  think  it  but  justice  to  state  that  the  accom- 
modations and  convenience  on  board  exceeded  their  most  sanguine 
expectations.  Selah  Strong,  G.  H.  Van  Wagenen,  Thomas  Wal- 
lace, John  Q.  Wilson,  J.  P.  Anthony,  Dennis  H.  Doyle,  George 
AVitmore,  William  S.  llicks,  J.  Bowman,  James  Braiden,  Stephen 
N.  Rowan,  J.  Crane. 

The  Clermont  increased  in  popularity,  and  after  the 
close  of  the  season,  which  was  highly  successful,  the 
boat  was  lengthened  to  one  hundred  and  forty  feet  in 
order  to  increase  her  speed.  The  next  season  she  I'an  as 
a  regular  packet,  and  another  boat  was  soon  required. 
This  was  called  the  Car  of  Neptune,  and  was  very  popu- 
lar. 

Fulton's  life  w^as  tlienceforward  rapid  and  brief.  lie 
died  after  seven  years  of  great  activity,  being  then  only 
fifty,  and  was  buried  in  the  Livingston  vault  in  Trinity 
church  yard.     Years  have  elapsed  since  his  funeral,  but 


National.  505 

not  a  line  has  been  reared  in  that  spot  to  his  memory. 
He  was  one  of  the  greatest  benefactors  of  the  age,  and 
the  first  voyage  of  the  Clermont  was  next  in  importance 
to  that  which  first  brought  Columbus  to  America. 

Fitch's  Experiment. 

Twenty  years  before  tlie  building  of  tlie  Clermont 
John  Fitch  had  propelled  a  small  boat  by  steam  on  the 
Collect  or  fresh  water  pond  which  occupied  the  site  of 
the  Tombs  or  New  York  prison,  and  covered  an  area  of  a 
half  dozen  acres. 

This  took  place  in  1787,  when  the  public  mind  was  so 
engrossed  with  the  national  questions  that  Fitch's  project 
was  neglected  and  his  little  steamboat  rotted  to  pieces  on 
the  banks  of  the  Collect.  It  was  a  vei-y  humble  affair, 
being  in  fact  merely  a  yawl,  with  an  iron  kettle  for  a 
boiler.  The  latter  was  made  steam  tight  by  a  plank  cover 
tightly  bolted  down,  and  the  propeller  was  a  screw  in  the 
stern,  but  the  principle  was  the  same  as  that  used  in  an 
ocean  steamer. 

The  effort  seemed  so  chimerical  that  it  soon  dropped 
out  of  public  attention  and  Fitch  went  west  and  died  in 
disappointment.  It  was  in  the  face  of  such  discouraging 
antecedents  that  Fulton  carried  his  project  to  a  grand 
success. 

Madison  Reminiscences. 
March  has  the  distinction  of  having  given  us  two  of  our 
ablest  presidents,  but  while  the  birth-day  of  Jackson  — 
the  15th  —  is  frequently  noticed,  that  of  Madison,  which 
occurs  the  day  afterward,  awakes  no  comment.  Madi- 
son was  a  rarely  gifted  man,  and  was  in  public  life  for 
forty-one  years,  during  which  time  he  hardly  took  what 
might  be  called  a  vacation.  He  never  made  a  tour  of 
64 


606  Our  Book. 

pleasure  and  recreatiou,  and  never  left  American  soil. 
His  public  life  was  marked  by  foreign  difficulties.  He 
was  a  member  of  the  Virginia  legislature  in  1776,  being 
then  only  twenty-five  years  old,  and  he  held  the  presi- 
dency during  the  last  war  with  Great  Britain,  which  was 
a  period  of  inexpressible  anxiety  and  distress. 

Judged  by  the  rule  of  common  sense,  the  war  was  a 
great  blunder,  for  the  nation  was  utterly  inadequate  to 
the  conflict ;  but  it  eventually  brought  beneficent  results 
of  an  enduring  character.  The  operations  on  land  were 
generally  unsatisfactory,  but  the  plucky  little  navy  accom- 
plished wonders.  Five  British  frigates  were  captured 
within  seven  months  in  single  combat.  The  British 
admiralty  became  astonished  by  the  exploits  of  our  ocean 
game-cocks,  and  it  was  evident  that  Britannia  no  longer 
ruled  the  waves. 

The  severest  Blow. 

The  greatest  humiliation  the  British  navy  ever  suffered 
was  when  the  Constitution  captured  the  second  hostile 
frigate.  The  first  was  the  Guerriere,  but  the  second  was 
the  Java,  which  was  of  vastly  greater  importance.  The 
Java,  indeed,  was  on  a  cruise  to  the  East  Indies,  carrying 
as  passengers  the  newly-appointed  governor  of  Bombay 
and  his  staff ;  also  a  number  of  officers  belonging  to  the 
British  East  India  squadron.  Such  a  defeat  was,  there- 
fore, doubly  humiliating,  and  the  governor  of  Bombay 
had  to  defer  entering  upon  the  duties  of  his  office  until 
an  exchange  took  place. 

The  fight  between  these  vessels  was  begun  by  the  Con- 
stitution, which,  descrying  a  strange  ship,  fired  a  gun 
across  its  bow  to  bring  it  to.  The  British  frigate,  of 
course,  considered  this  rather  saucy,  and  her  reply  was  a 
broadside.  The  engagement  then  followed,  lasting  three 
hours  and  a  half,  and  was  of  the  fiercest  character.     The 


National.  50T 

Java  lost  sixty,  including  the  captain,  while  the  Consti- 
tution only  lost  nine.  The  Java  was  in  so  hopeless  a  con- 
dition that  all  her  crew  was  removed  to  the  Constitution, 
and  the  captured  vessel  was  then  blown  up.  This,  as  I 
have  said,  was  the  most  humiliating  defeat  the  British 
navy  suffered  during  the  war,  and  the  lesson  was  not  soon 
forgotten. 

Decatuk's  Victory. 

When  the  Constitution  fought  the  Java  she  was  com- 
manded by  Commodore  Bain  bridge,  but  Decatur  and  his 
frigate  United  States  had  won  an  admiral)le  victory  only 
two  months  previousl}',  having  captured  the  Macedonian 
after  a  short  but  terrific  contest.  Going  back  to  the  first 
victory  won  by  the  Constitution,  she  was  then  commanded 
by  Capt.  Hull,  who  met  the  Guerriere  on  the  19th  of 
August,  1812,  just  two  months  after  the  declaration  of 
war,  and  captured  her  after  a  severe  fight.  This  was  the 
first  naval  action  after  the  war  began,  and  hence  its  result 
was  of  vast  importance. 

When  the  Guerriere  struck  she  was  really  sinking,  and 
all  the  prisoners  were  brought  on  board  the  Constitution, 
after  which  the  Guerriere  was  burned.  Her  commander, 
Capt.  Dacres,  wrote  from  Boston  a  report  of  the  fight,  in 
which  he  said  :  "  I  feel  it  my  duty  to  state  that  the  con- 
duct of  Capt.  Hull  and  liis  officers  to  our  men  has  been 
that  of  a  brave  enemy,  the  greatest  care  being  taken  to 
prevent  our  men  losing  the  smallest  trifle,  and  the  great- 
est attention  being  paid  to  the  wounded."  It  will  be 
thus  seen  that  the  Constitution  fought  two  battles  within 
the  space  of  four  months,  and  in  each  action  captured  and 
sunk  its  adversary.  No  wonder  the  British  discontinued 
the  right  of  search  after  the  close  of  the  war. 

The  London  Times  commented  on  the  capture  of  the 
Guerriere  in  the  followino:  manner : 


508  ^UK  Book. 

It  is  not  merely  that  a  British  frigate  lias  been  taken  —  after  a 
brave  resistance  —  but  that  it  was  taken  by  a  new  enemy  —  au 
enemy  unaccustomed  to  such  triumplis,  and  likely  to  be  rendered 
insolent  and  confident  by  them.  Never  before  in  the  history  of 
the  world  did  a  British  frigate  strike  to  an  American  ;  and  although 
we  cannot  say  that  Captain  Dacres  is  punishable  for  the  act,  yet 
we  do  say  that  there  are  commanders  in  our  navy  who  would  rather 
a  thousand  times  have  gone  down  with  their  colors  flying  than  have 
set  so  fatal  an  example. 

Captain  Dacres  did,  indeed,  suffer  partial  loss  of  caste 
by  his  defeat,  but  lie  soon  found  relief  in  the  capture  of 
the  Java.  The  latter  was  vastly  superior  to  the  Guer- 
riere,  and  yet  she  was  not  only  compelled  to  strike,  but 
was  also  sunk  —  this  being  done  by  the  same  frigate,  the 
Constitution,  to  which  Dacres  surrendered. 

The  naval  Duel. 

One  of  the  sadest  tragedies  in  the  war  was  the  death 
of  Captain  James  Lawrence,  whose  monument  is  one  of 
the  most  prominent  objects  in  Trinity  church  yard.  lie 
was,  as  most  of  my  readers  are  aware,  in  command  of 
the  frigate  Chesapeake,  which  was  captured  by  the  British 
frigate  Shannon,  and  he  was  mortally  wounded  during 
the  action.  Lawrence  had  been  challenged  by  Captain 
Broke  of  the  Shannon,  and  though  he  knew  the  latter  was 
greatly  superior,  he  was  too  gallant  to  refuse.  He  was 
taken  to  Halifax  where  he  died,  and  he  was  buried  from 
the  Chesapeake  just  a  week  after  the  action,  which  took 
place  on  the  1st  June,  1813.  He  has  been  rendered  fa- 
mous by  his  last  words  of  command,  "  don't  give  up  the 
ship."  The  British  showed  distinguished  honor  to  the 
fallen  hero,  and  I  find  in  one  of  the  newspapers  of  that 
day  the  following  military  order  : 

Halifax,  7th  June,  1813. —  Oarrisoyi  Orders:  A  funeral  party 
will  be  furnished  to-morrow  by  the  64th  regiment  consisting  of 
300  rank  and  file,  under  command  of  Col.  Wardlaw,  to  inter  the 
remains  of  Capt.  Lawrence,  late  of  tlie  American  frigate  Chesa- 
peake,   at  half  past  1p.m.     The  baud  of  that  corps  will  accoui- 


The  Heko's  Funeral.  509 

pany  and  the  officers  of  the  garrison  will  march  in  procession, 
wearing  black  crape  on  the  left  arm. 

F.  T.  Thomas,  Major  of  Brigade. 

Navy  Orders :  The  body  of  the  late  commander  of  the  United 
States  frigate  Chesapeake,  will  be  interred  to-morrow  at  2  o'clock. 
The  captains,  lieutenants  and  midshipmen  will  attend  the  funeral 
and  will  meet  at  1  o'clock  alongside  the  Chesapeake  for  that  pur- 
pose. Thomas  A.  Capel,  Captain. 

The  funeral  procession  was  as  follows : 

Music. 
Funeral  Firing  Party . 
Pall  Bearers.  Pall  Bearers. 

Captain  Baker.  I  the  I       Captain  Perchell. 

Captain  Pearse.  |  body.         |       Captain  Head. 

Captain  Collier.  Captain  Blyth. 

American  Naval  Officers. 
British  Naval  Officers. 
Midshipmen. 
Lieutenants. 
Officers  of  the  Garrison,  According  to  Rank. 
Post  Captains, 
StaflE  Officers. 
General  and 
Senior  Officers. 

These  details  show  the  extraordinary  respect  which 
Lawrence  had  won  from  the  enemy,  and  indeed,  the  fu- 
neral was  the  most  honorable  ever  granted  by  the  British 
to  a  captured  warrior. 

Coming  Home. 

As  soon  as  the  sad  fate  of  the  fallen  hero  was  known 
an  effort  was  made  to  recover  the  body,  and  a  Salem  cap- 
tain offered  to  bring  it  back  at  his  own  expense.  He  re- 
ceived permission  from  our  government  and  sailed  with  a 
flag  of  truce.  Twelve  ship  captains  volunteered  to  serve 
as  crew  of  the  vessel,  and  in  this  manner  the  corpse  of 
the  hero  reached  New  York,  where  it  was  interred  in 
Trinity  church  yard  with  all  the  honors  due  to  so  illus- 
trions  a  character. 

A  noticeable  feature  in  the  history  of  Captain  Law^ 
rence  was  the  fact   that  his  courtesy  in  victory  was  only 


510  OuK  Book. 

equaled  by  liis  nerve  under  defeat.  A  few  months  before 
bis  last  battle  lie  captured  tbe  British  war  vessel  Peacock 
after  a  severe  action  and  brought  bis  prize  into  New  York. 
The  captain  was  among  the  slain,  but  the  surviving  officers 
were  so  won  by  the  kindness  they  received  at  his  hands 
that  they  addressed  him  as  follows : 

New  York,  March  27,  1813. —  Cajitain  James  Lawrence:  We 
beg  leave  to  return  you  our  grateful  acknowledgements  for  the 
kind  attention  and  hospitality  we  experienced  during  the  time  we 
remained  on  board  the  Hornet.  So  much  was  done  to  alleviate  the 
distressing  situation  in  w'hich  we  were  placed  when  received  on 
board,  that  we  cannot  better  express  our  feelings  than  by  saying, 
"  We  ceased  to  consider  ourselves  prisoners,"  and  every  thing  that 
friendship  could  dictate  was  done  by  yourself  and  your  officers. 
Permit  us,  then,  sir,  impressed  as  we  are  with  a  grateful  sense  of 
your  kindness  for  ourselves  and  other  officers  and  crew,  to  return 
to  yourself  and  the  otlier  officers  of  the  Hornet  our  sincere  thanks, 
and  believe  us  to  remain,  with  a  deep  sense  of  the  kind  offices  you 
rendered  us,  your  humble  servants, 

F.  A.  Wright,  1st  Lieutenant. 

C.  Lamert,  2nd  Lieutenant. 

J.  Whittaker,  Surgeon. 

F.  D.  Unwin,  Purser. 

Little  more  than  two  months  after  the  above  was  writ- 
ten the  gallant  Lawrence  was  receivino;  the  ministrations 
of  generous  foes  at  Halifax,  and  they  rendered  him  the 
highest  funeral  honors  in  their  power.  Lawrence  was 
but  thirty-two  at  the  time  of  his  death,  but  he  has  won 
distinction  as  the  most  honored  of  all  that  fell  in  the  whole 
war.  The  cannon  that  surround  the  monument  were 
captured  from  the  British,  and  they  seem  to  stand  as  wit- 
nesses of  that  peace  which  must  ever  unite  the  nations. 

Madison's  Eloquence. 
The  Revolution  was  only  finished  by  the  war  of  1812 
which  settled  the  long  list  of  international  troubles.  Mad- 
ison, who  held  the  presidential  office  during  this  last  con- 
flict, placed  great  dependence  on  the  spirit  of  'Y6,  as  will 
be  seen  by  his  appeal  to  the  public.     Madison  has  long 


Madison's  Eloquence.  611 

been  famed  for  the  elegance  of  his  style,  and  his  state 
papers  are  in  this  respect  nnequaled.  At  times,  however, 
he  rose  to  a  degree  of  eloquence  which  awakens  my  un- 
bounded admiration.  I  am  surprised  at  the  neglect  which 
his  best  utterances  have  suffered,  and  as  they  are  not  found 
in  any  works  on  rlietoric  or  oratory,  or  even  in  literary 
collections,  I  think  a  brief  extract  will  be  appreciated  by 
the  reader. 

Conclusion  of  first  war  Message. 

We  have  the  unestimable  consolatiou  of  knowing  that  the  war 
in  which  we  are  engaged  is  a  war  neither  of  ambition  nor  vain- 
glory; that  it  is  waged  not  in  violation  of  the  rights  of  others, 
but  in  maintenance  of  our  own ;  that  it  was  preceded  by  a  pa- 
tience without  example,  under  wrongs  accumulating  without  end, 
and  that  it  was  not  declared  until  every  hope  of  averting  it  was 
extinguished. 

To  have  slirunk  under  such  circumstances  from  manly  resist- 
ance would  liave  been  a  degradation  blasting  our  proudest  hopes. 
It  would  have  struck  us  from  the  high  rank  where  the  virtuous 
struggles  of  our  fathers  had  placed  us  and  have  betrayed  the  mag- 
nificent legacy  which  we  hold  in  trust  for  future  generations. 

It  was  with  such  an  alternative  that  war  was  chosen.  The  ap- 
peal was  made  in  a  just  cause  to  the  just  and  all  powerful  Being 
who  liolds  in  His  hands  the  destiny  of  nations.  It  remains  only 
that  faithful  to  ourselves  and  ever  ready  to  accept  peace  from  the 
hands  of  justice,  we  prosecute  the  war  with  united  counsels  and 
with  the  amplest  powers  of  the  nation,  until  peace  be  obtained 
under  the  Divine  blessing. 

Another  message  concludes  Thus  : 

The  contest  in  which  the  United  States  are  engaged  appeals  for 
support  to  every  motive  that  can  animate  an  uncorrupted  and  en- 
lightened people  —  to  the  love  of  country  —  to  the  pride  of  lib- 
erty—  to  an  emulation  of  the  glorious  founders  of  our  independ- 
ence, and  finally  to  the  sacred  obligations  of  transmitting  entire 
to  future  generations  tliat  patrimony  of  national  rights  and  inde- 
pendence which  we  hold  in  trust  from  the  goodness  of  Divine 
Providence. 

Reader,  I  think  you  will  agree  with  me  in  pronouncing 
the  above  extracts  the  finest  specimens  of  American  elo- 
quence, and  yet  how  little  is  known  of  Madison !  It 
may  be  added  that  the  motto  which  was  then  so  eloquently 


512  Our  Book. 

displayed  by  the  war  party  — "  free  trade  and  sailors' 
rights  "  —  has  been  of  late  years  not  only  misunderstood 
but  really  reversed. 

Free  trade  did  not  mean  the  abolition  of  a  tariff  but 
merely  that  our  vessels  should  be  free  from  the  right  of 
search  which  British  cruisers  then  practiced.  Sailors' 
rights  merely  meant  an  exemption  from  seizure  and  im- 
pressment by  the  same  cruisers,  which  were  in  the  habit 
of  seizing  men  on  American  ships  and  pressing  them  into 
service  under  the  claim  that  they  were  British  subjects. 
These  outrages  were  brought  to  a  close  by  the  war  of 
1S12,  during  which  our  Httle  navy  taught  Great  Britain 
to  respect  our  flag. 

Madison's  Closing  Life. 

To  return  to  Madison,  it  may  be  said  that  he  will  always 

be  distinguished  for  elegance  of  literary  style.     He  wrote 

the  most  finished  state  papers  the  world  has  ever  seen. 

Even  his  briefest  messages  were  distinguished  by  elegance. 

Madison  lived  to  see  his  war  policy  approved  by  those 

who  had  been  its  worst  opponents,  and  he  also  lived  long 

enough  to  see  his  best  general,  Jackson,  twice  elected  to 

the  presidency.     Madison's  last  days  were  peaceful,  and 

were  passed  in  public  duty.     He  was  president  of  a  county 

agricultural  society,  and  even  at  the  age  of  seventy-eight 

he  held  a  seat  in  the  State  Constitutional  Convention,  and 

seven  years  afterward  he  passed  away,  reminding  one  of 

the  words  of  the  poet : 

How  sleep  the  brave  who  sink  to  rest 
By  all  their  country's  wishes  blest. 

That  Pig  Story. 

I  notice  that  ridiculous  story  that  the  war  of  1812-1814 
was  voted  in  the  national  legislature  by  a  majority  of  one 


The  War  Tote.  51$ 

is  again  in  circulation,  and  to  make  it  still  more  ridicn- 
lous,  this  slender  majority  is  ascribed  to  tlie  damage  done 
by  a  pig.  I  would  hardly  liave  noticed  its  recent  repub- 
lication if  it  had  not  appeared  in  one  of  tlie  popular  peri- 
odicals whence  it  was  copied  by  a  religious  paper,  and  a 
professor  in  a  theological  seminary  quoted  it  as  an  illus- 
tration of  the  workings  of  Providence.  In  order  to  pre- 
sent a  correct  historical  statement,  I  have  examined  the 
Congressional  Record  and  find  that  the  war  vote  on  joint 
ballot,  shows  a  majority  of  36. 

Henry  Clay  was  the  most  earnest  advocate  of  the  war 
in  Congress,  and  being  Speaker,  his  influence  was  widely 
felt.  John  Randolph,  also  a  member,  was  the  most  de- 
termined opponent  of  the  war,  and  in  this  manner  a  bit- 
ter enmity  began  between  these  great  leaders  which  thir- 
teen years  afterward  resulted  in  that  once  famous  but 
bloodless  duel.  At  a  recent  sale  the  papers  referring  to 
this  affair  brought  $145,  which  shows  the  importance  it 
still  holds  in  history. 

Clay  and  Randolph  Duel. 
When  John  Quincy  Adams  became  President,  he  ap- 
pointed Henry  Clay  Secretary  of  State,  and  Randolph, 
who  was  still  in  the  House,  denounced  it  as  "  a  combina- 
tion of  the  puritan  and  the  black  leg."  As  soon  as  Clay 
heard  of  this  he  sent  a  challenge.  Randolph  accepted  it, 
but  said  he  "  would  throw  away  his  fire  unless  he  saw  the 
devil  in  Clay's  eye,"  meaning  malice  prepense  to  take 
life.  The  parties  met  and  Randolph  said  to  his  second, 
"  Clay  is  calm,  but  not  vindictive,"  and  the  eventual  re- 
sult was  that  Clay  fired  without  effect,  while  Randolph 
discharged  his  pistol  in  the  air.     The  moment  Clay  saw 


614:  OuK  Book. 

that  Randolph  had  thrown  away  his  fire,  he  immediately 
approached  him  and  said  in  a  very  tender  manner,  "  I 
trust  you  are  not  hurt.  After  what  has  happened,  I  would 
not  have  harmed  you  for  a  thousand  worlds."  In  this 
manner  terminated  a  feud  which  grew  out  of  the  War  of 
1812,  and  ever  afterward  these  great  leaders  lived  in 
amity.  Randolph  died  eight  years  afterward,  but  Clay 
remained  in  active  public  life  a  quarter  century  later,  and 
his  death  awoke  a  national  lament. 

Love  and  Wab. 
An  interesting  contrast  between  love  and  war  is  found 
in  the  fact  that  during  the  above-mentioned  conflict 
Francis  Jeffrey,  once  the  famous  editor  of  the  Edin- 
burgh Review,  came  to  America  after  a  wife.  He  was 
a  widower  of  forty,  and  had  been  for  some  time  engaged 
to  Mies  Charlotte  Wilkes,  who,  though  a  resident  of  New 
York,  was  of  British  birth.  He  reached  America  before 
the  declaration  of  war,  and  would  have  been  detained 
here  in  a  very  distressing  manner  had  not  President 
Madison  given  him  a  pass,  which,  of  course,  included 
the  vessel  in  which  he  sailed.  He  visited  Washington, 
and  had  an  interview  with  the  president,  who  drew  him 
into  a  discussion  on  national  questions.  It  lasted  an  hour, 
and  all  present  were  deeply  interested  in  the  interchange 
of  opinion.  Most  of  my  readers  are  aware  that  Jeffrey 
was  favorable  toward  America,  and  after  his  return  the 
Edinburgh  Review  was  still  more  disposed  to  advocate  that 
liberal  policy  by  wiuch  it  had  been  previously  character- 
ized. Jeffrey  was  much  impressed  with  Madison's  ability, 
and  by  the  general  features  of  a  republican  government. 

Randolph's  Oratoky. 
One  of  the  best  specimens  of  Randolph's  pithy,  pointed 
and  incisive  oratory  is  found  in  his  speech  against  Madi- 


Randolph's  Oratory.  515 

son's  war  policy  from  which  I  make  the  following  extract. 
I  need  hardly  add,  that  the  banditti  to  whom  he  refers, 
were  the  Algerines  with  whom  our  country  had  recently 
made  peace. 

There  was  a  fatality  attending  plenitude  of  power.  Soon  or 
late  some  mania  seizes  upon  its  possessors  —  they  fall  from  the 
dizzy  height  tlirough  the  giddiness  of  their  own  heads.  Witli 
chiefs  of  banditti,  negro  or  mulatto,  we  can  tredt  and  can  trade. 
Name,  however,  but  England,  and  all  our  antipathies  are  up  in 
arms.  Against  whom  ?  Against  those  wiiose  blood  runs  iu  our 
veins,  iu  common  with  whom  we  can  claim  Shakespeare  and  New- 
ton aud  Chatham,  whose  form  of  government  is  the  freest  on 
earth,  our  own  only  excepted  ;  from  whom  every  valuable  principle 
of  our  own  institutions  has  been  borrowed.  In  what  scliool  did 
the  worthies  of  our  land,  the  "VVasliingtons,  Henrys,  Hancocks, 
Franklins,  Rutledges  of  America,  learn  those  principles  of  civil 
liberty  which  were  so  nobly  asserted  by  their  wisdom  and  valor? 
American  resistance  to  British  usurpation  had  not  been  more 
warmly  cherished  by  these  great  men  and  their  com))atriota  than 
by  Chatham  and  his  illustrious  associates  in  the  British  parlia- 
ment. 

He  (Mr.  Randolph)  acknowledged  the  influence  of  Shakespeare 
and  a  Milton  upon  his  imagination,  of  a  Locke  upon  his  under- 
standing, of  a  Chatham  upon  qualities,  which,  would  to  God!  he 
possessed  in  common  with  that  illustrious  man !  This  was  a 
British  influence  which  he  could  never  shake  olf.  He  allowed 
much  to  the  just  and  honest  prejudices  growing  out  of  the  Revo- 
lution. But  by  whom  had  they  been  suppressed?  By  felons  es- 
caped from  the  jails  of  Paris  and  Newgate  since  the  breaking  out  of 
the  French  revolution  —  who,  in  this  abused  and  insulted  country, 
have  set  up  for  political  teachers,  and  whose  disciples  give  no 
other  proof  of  their  progress  in  republicanism,  except  a  blind  de- 
votion to  the  most  ruthless  military  despotism  that  the  world  ever 
saw.  Tiiese  are  the  patriots  who  scru])le  not  to  brand  with  tlie 
epithet  of  Tory  the  men  by  whose  blood  your  liberties  have  been 
cemented.  These  are  they  who  hold  in  such  keen  remembrance  the 
outrages  of  the  British  armies,  from  wliich  many  of  them  were 
deserters.  Ask  these  self-styled  patriots  wiiere  they  were  during 
the  Revolution,  and  you  strike  them  dumb —  their  lips  are  closed 
in  eternal  silence.  If  it  were  allowable  to  entertain  partialities, 
every  consideration  of  blood,  language,  religion  and  interest, 
would  incline  us  toward  England  ;  and  yet  shall  they  be  alone  ex- 
tended to  France  and  her  ruler  (Bonaparte),  whom  we  are  bound  to 
believe  a  chastening  God  suffers  to  exist,  as  the  scourge  of  a  guilty 
world!  On  all  other  nations  he  tramples  — he  holds  them  in  con- 
tempt— England  alone  he  hates;  he  would,  but  he  cannot  despise 
her  —  fear  cannot  despise. 

And  shall  Republicans  become  the  instruments  of  him  who  had 


516  Our  Book. 

effaced  the  title  of  Attila  to  the  "  scourge  of  God!  "  Yet  even 
Attila,  in  the  falling  fortunes  of  civilization,  had,  no  doubt,  his 
advocates,  his  tools,  his  minions,  his  parasites  in  the  very  countries 
that  he  overran.  Mr.  Randolpli  could  not  give  utterance  to  that 
strong  detestation  which  he  felt  toward  (above  all  other  works  of 
the  creation)  such  characters  as  Zingis,  Tamerlane  or  Bonaparte. 
His  instincts  involuntarily  revolted  at  their  bare  idea.  Malefac- 
tors of  the  human  race,  who  ground  down  man  to  a  mere  machine 
of  their  impious  and  bloody  ambition.  Yet,  under  all  the  accu- 
mulated wrongs  and  insults  and  robberies  of  the  last  of  these 
chieftains,  are  we  not  in  point  of  fact  about  to  become  a  party  to 
his  views,  a  partner  in  his  wars? 

I  have  made  the  above  extract  merely  in  order  to  show 
Randolph's  intense  style.  It  has  no  tender  and  sympa- 
thetic power,  and  in  fact,  Randolph  was  deficient  in  that 
mental  balance  without  which  no  man  can  be  a  leader. 
It  is  remarkable,  that  during  the  above-mentioned  war, 
the  great  antagonists  should  be  a  Kentuckian  and  a  Vir- 
ginian, and  this  antagonism  continued  until  a  dozen  years 
afterward,  when  they  met  as  duelists,  but  fortunately  it 
was  a  bloodless  field. 

Henry  Clay's  Oratory. 
Clay  was  the  most  effective  orator  of  his  day  because 
he  added  to  a  deep  and  comprehensive  view  of  public 
matters  an  emotional  power  which  no  other  modern  states- 
man possessed.  The  following  extract  from  one  of  his 
speeches,  delivered  in  1828,  forty-three  years  l)efore  the 
great  rebellion,  shows  his  views  on  the  Union  : 

I  have  no  fears  for  the  permanency  of  our  Union.  It  is  a  tough 
and  a  strong  cord,  as  all  will  find  who  shall  presumptuously  at- 
tempt to  break  it.  It  has  been  competent  to  suppress  all  domes- 
tic insurrection  and  to  carry  us  safely  through  all  foreign  wars, 
and  it  has  come  out  of  each  with  more  strength  and  greater 
promise  of  endurance.  It  is  the  choicest  political  blessing  we 
enjoy,  and  I  trust  and  hope  that  Providence  will  jiermit  us  to 
transmit  it  unimpaired  to  posterity  through  endless  generations. 

Clay's  most  enthusiastic  champion  was  Horace  Greeley, 
who  felt  his  defeat  not  only  with  deepest  personal  regret, 
but  also  as  a  national  calamity.     Clay  reappeared  in  pub- 


National.  617 

lie  life  in  the  effort  for  the  pei-petuity  of  the  Union.  I 
well  remember  seeing  his  reception  in  this  city  in  1839, 
when  he  was  prominent  as  a  presidential  candidate,  but 
the  nomination  was  given  to  Harrison.  I  also  saw  him 
enjoy  a  still  more  enthusiastic  reception  in  1846,  and 
though  he  had  lost  the  presidency,  the  bitterness  of  dis- 
appointment was  mitigated  by  the  intensity  of  popular 
affection.  Six  years  later  he  died  —  having  by  a  long 
career  of  statesmanship  won  the  name  of  the  ''Great  Com- 
moner." 

Lewis  and  Claek. 

These  men  certainly  deserve  remembrance,  since  they 
organized  the  first  national  effort  to  reach  the  Pacific. 
Their  success  gave  them  great  distinction  at  the  time,  and 
also  prepared  the  public  for  subsequent  exploration. 
Both  were  of  Virginia  birth,  but  how  different  is  their 
early  history.  Lewis  was  Jefferson's  private  secretary, 
while  Clark  was  one  of  a  family  of  pioneers,  who,  in 
1784,  settled  on  the  present  site  of  Louisville. 

In  1796  Clark  went  to  St.  Louis.  He  had  won  a  repu- 
tation in  the  Indian  wars,  and  hence  was  designated  to 
the  exploring  service.  The  expedition,  which  included 
thirty  men,  started  from  St.  Louis  in  March,  1804,  and 
before  the  close  of  the  season  they  reached  the  lands 
of  the  Sioux,  where  they  were  obliged  to  go  into  winter 
camp.  The  next  spring  they  marched  onward,  and  on 
the  12tli  of  August  passed  the  summit  of  the  Rocky 
Mountains.  On  the  15tli  of  November,  after  great  suf- 
fering, they  reached  the  Pacific  ocean. 

They  remained  all  winter  in  camp,  and  in  the  spring 
returned,  arriving  at  St.  Louis  in  September,  after  an  ab- 
sence of  nearly  two  and  a  half  years.  In  February,  1807, 
Lewis  and  Clark  returned  to  Washington,  and  were  re- 


518  OuK  Book. 

ceived  by  congress  with  appropriate  honors.  Their  ex- 
plorations filled  two  large  volumes,  but  how  little  did  people 
then  imagine  that  the  same  distance  would  ever  be  made  in 
one  week ! 

Historical  Cycles. 

The  battle  of  Antietam,  which  was  the  first  decided 
victory  (in  open  field)  won  by  the  Union  army,  gave 
the  assurance  of  final  success.  It  had,  however,  an  addi- 
tional importance,  since  it  was  followed  by  the  emancipa- 
tion proclamation,  which  is  the  most  important  state  paper 
since  the  Declaration  of  Independence.  I  am  led  by  this 
historical  reference  to  one  of  still  more  remote  character, 
which  may  interest  some  of  my  readers,  as  it  illustrates 
those  cycles  which  sometimes  occur  in  national  history. 
Let  us  begin  with  1762,  when  a  Boston  judge,  appointed 
by  the  king,  refused  to  obey  an  unjust  law,  and  not  only 
resigned  his  office  but  denounced  the  law  in  the  most  elo- 
quent manner  at  a  public  meeting  in  Faneuil  Hall.  This 
man  was  James  Otis,  the  ablest  speaker  in  New  England; 
and  John  Adams  says  that  on  that  occasion  American 
liberty  had  its  birth. 

The  first  epoch  of  twenty-five  years  brings  us  to  1787, 
when  not  only  liberty  had  been  won,  but  a  Constitution 
had  been  formed,  and  this  gave  promise  of  a  permanent 
nationality,  whose  greatest  danger  immediately  appeared  in 
the  doctrine  of  State  rights.  George  Clinton  in  New  York, 
and  James  Monroe  in  Virginia,  both  opposed  the  Union, 
because  they  did  not  want  to  surrender  the  State  powers. 

The  second  epoch  of  twenty-five  years  brings  us  to  the 
war  of  1812,  when  the  danger  of  State  rights  became 
stiU  more  apparent.  George  Clinton,  who  was  then  vice- 
president,  died  that  year,  having  lived  long  enough  to  see 
his  error,  but  he  saw  the  latter  revived  by  John  C.  Cal- 
houn, who  then  made  his  first  appearance  in  congress. 


N'ational.  610 

The  war  was  so  unpopular  North  that  it  awoke  many 
fears  of  disunion,  but  fortunately  peace  with  Britain 
abated  these  internal  dangers. 

The  third  epoch  of  twenty-live  years  brings  us  to  1837, 
when  the  independence  of  Texas  was  acknowledged  by 
our  government,  with  a  view  of  its  speedy  admission  into 
the  Union,  and  on  this  occasion  John  C.  Calhoun  reaf- 
firmed his  position  that  the  Union  was  merely  a  compact, 
which  could  be  sundered  at  any  time.  He  was  then  per- 
fecting his  scheme  of  dissolving  the  Union  and  forming 
a  southern  empire,  to  which  Texas  was  necessary.  Here 
the  State  rights  doctrine  which  Jackson  had  checked  in  the 
nullification  troubles  reappeared  witli  renewed  strength. 
Fourth  epoch,  1862,  just  twenty-five  years  later,  when 
the  battle  of  Antietam  as  the  first  open-field  victory  of 
the  Union  forces  gave  assurance  of  the  cstabHshment  of 
the  nation  on  the  basis  of  perpetual  union. 

Pacific  road  Projector. 
Now  that  four  railroads  cross  the  American  continent,  it 
may  be  well  to  recall  the  inception  of  this  wonderful  en- 
terprise. The  projector  was  Asa  Whitney,  who  certainly 
deserves  some  expression  of  national  gratitude.  In  181:3, 
five  years  before  the  discovery  of  California  gold,  Whit- 
ney started  the  |)roject  of  a  railway  to  the  Pacific,  and 
from  time  to  time  presented  it  to  various  legislatures  and 
at  last  to  the  general  government.  The  idea  was  wel- 
comed by  the  small  number  of  really  advanced  minds,  and 
Freeman  Hunt,  editor  of  the  Merchants'  Magazine,  wrote 
thus  in  18-14  :  "  Our  population  is  pushing  with  a  vigor- 
ous, rapid  and  increasing  march  toward  the  shores  of  the 
Pacific.  Those  persons  are  now  living  who  will  see  a 
railroad  connecting  those  shores  with  New  York,  and 
also  steam  communication  to  China." 


520  OuK  Book. 

The  plan  was  submitted  to  congress  in  1844  by  Zadoc 
Pratt,  then  a  member  of  the  house,  and  who  said,  "  this 
is  no  mysterious  affair — it  is  a  plain,  simple  business 
plan,  grand  and  sublime."  The  scheme  was  again  brought 
before  congress  in  1848,  and  an  able  as  well  as  a  highly 
favorable  report  was  made  by  the  committee.  A  strong 
opposition,  however,  appeared  in  an  unexpected  quarter, 
and  Thomas  H.  Benton  —  then  a  member  of  the  senate — 
was  its  leader. 

Benton  must  have  been  actuated  by  malignant  personal 
feelings,  or  extreme  ignorance,  as  he  willfully  perverted 
and  misconstrued  Whitney's  project,  and  cast  aspersions 
on  his  character.  Perhaps  he  was  jealous  of  any  move- 
ment which  might  interfere  with  the  claims  of  his  son-in- 
law  Fremont,  who  was  then  organizing  an  overland  expe- 
dition. He  was,  however,  led  to  a  change  of  policy  after 
the  discovery  of  gold,  and  then  introduced  a  bill  favoring 
the  measure. 

Various  Steps. 
In  1853,  an  act  was  passed  providing  for  surveys  of 
different  routes,  but  owing  to  national  troubles  ten  years 
elapsed  before  the  work  was  begun,  and  it  required  two 
additional  years  to  finish  the  first  forty  miles  —  from 
Omaha  to  Fremont. 

On  the  12th  day  of  May,  1869,  the  road  was  opened, 
this  being  twenty  years  after  the  first  favorable  congres- 
sional enactment.  Whitney,  like  all  men  of  progressive 
genius,  suffered  the  penalty  of  enterprise.  He  obtained 
the  approval  of  eighteen  State  legislatures,  and  expended 
a  large  amount  of  time  and  money  in  pei-sonal  inspection 
of  the  route,  but  he  is  now  rewarded  by  oblivion. 

Whitney  estimated  the  cost  of  the  road  at  $70,000,- 
000,  and  he  proposed  to  build  it  for  a  land  grant  of 
thirty  miles  on  each  side  of  the  track.     He  said  that  the 


National.  521 

first  eight  hundred  miles  would  bo  all  that  was  of  any 
value,  the  west  of  the  territory  being  really  worthless. 

The  road  cost  nearly  four  times  his  estimate,  but  it  is 
to  be  remembered  that  it  was  built  at  a  time  of  great  in- 
flation, and  also  that  its  construction  was  accompanied  by 
an  unusual  system  of  fraud. 

Men  who  deserve  Memorials. 
One  of  these  is  Paul  Jones,  who  did  more  for  America 
than  any  other  man  who  saw  so  little  of  our  country  — 
which  indeed  he  only  visited  four  times  during  his  whole 
life.  He  was  a  native  of  Scotland  and  came  here  before 
the  Revolution.  Being  an  expert  sailor,  a  naval  com- 
mand was  given  him,  and  after  entering  on  his  new  ser- 
vice, he  touched  at  Providence  and  then  put  to  sea.  His 
brief  autobiography  gives  an  interesting  record  of  the 
captures  he  made,  and  he  was  the  first  man  to  spread  the 
American  colors  on  the  ocean.  Among  other  interesting 
points  it  may  be  mentioned  that  he  bore  the  news  of 
Burgoyne's  surrender  to  Franklin  and  thus  led  to  our 
treaty  with  France  which  ensured  success.  He  was  only 
thirty-two  when  he  captured  the  Serapis  and  carried  ter- 
ror to  the  British  coast.  One  of  the  remarkable  features 
in  this  action  is  that  it  was  fought  by  moonlight,  and  an- 
other is  that  the  vessel  which  Captain  Jones  commanded 
was  so  shattered  that  he  left  it  to  sink  and  sailed  from 
the  scene  of  conflict  in  his  prize.  That  all  this  service 
should  have  been  performed  by  one  who  never  spent  a 
year  in  the  country  which  he  so  gallantly  defended  is, 
indeed,  a  matter  of  surprise.  He  died  in  Paris  in  1792, 
being  then  only  forty-five.  I  regret  to  add  that  there  is 
not,  either  in  this  country  or  any  other  (as  far  as  I  can 
learn),  a  monument  bearing  the  name  of  Paul  Jones. 
Reader,  is  not  this  neglect  wrong  ? 
66 


522  John  Ledyaed. 

Another  man  who  deserves  a  statue  is  John  Ledyard. 
This  leads  to  the  statement  that  in  1776,  while  a  hostile 
fleet  was  sailing  up  New  York  harbor  bearing  that  army 
which  soon  defeated  Washington  on  Long  Island,  the 
British  government  sent  out  its  exploring  expedition  to 
the  Pacific  under  Captain  Cook.  Thus  are  we  reminded 
of  the  words  of  Milton,  that  "  peace  hath  her  victories 
no  less  renowned  than  war." 

There  was  an  American  in  this  expedition  with  whom 
Cook  was  so  well  pleased,  that  though  the  former  was 
merely  a  sailor,  he  was  made  corporal  of  marines.  This 
man  was  John  Ledyard,  who,  though  only  twenty-five, 
had  previously  sailed  up  the  Mediterranean  in  an  Ameri- 
can vessel  in  order  to  see  the  Orient — had  reached  Lon- 
don, and  hearing  of  Cook's  expedition,  sought  a  place, 
however  humble,  in  his  crew,  Ledyard  was  the  only 
American  that  was  honored  with  Cook's  friendship.  He 
witnessed  the  tragic  death  of  the  famous  navigator,  and 
assisted  in  recovering  his  remains.  It  was  this  union 
between  Cook  and  Ledyard  which  gave  the  latter  such 
favor  among  English  scientists. 

Subsequent  Life. 

Ledyard  was  the  first  American  of  that  roaming  character 
which  WMS  so  fully  developed  by  Bayard  Taylor  and  other 
noted  tourists.  He  had  a  natural  desire  to  visit  foreign 
lands,  which  gradually  became  a  ruling  passion.  On  the 
close  of  the  Revolution  he  returned  to  America  and  en- 
deavored to  induce  the  commercial  public  to  fit  out  an 
expedition  for  the  northwest  coast,  an  enterprise  which 
he  was  the  first  to  propose.  This  effort,  however,  failed, 
and  he  then  visited  Paris  hoping  there  to  obtain  encour- 
agement. Pie  was  warmly  received  by  Jefferson,  our 
ambassador,  but  his  project  failed.  He  then  repaired  to 
London,  and  being  supplied  with  a  small  sum  of  money 


Kationai..  523 

by  scientific  friends  who  admired  his  enthusiasm,  he 
started  on  an  overland  journey  through  Russia,  with  a 
view  to  going  as  far  around  the  world  as  Behring  straits. 
In  seven  weeks  he  walked  one  thousand  four  hundred 
miles  in  the  dead  of  winter,  and  reached  St.  Petersburg!! 
without  shoes  or  money.  He  was  befriended  by  a  Scotcli 
physician  in  the  Russian  service,  and  then  2)roceeded 
through  Siberia  to  the  distance  of  three  thousand  miles. 
At  this  important  period  in  his  travels  he  was  suspected 
to  be  a  spy,  and  was  conveyed  under  guard,  out  of  the 
Russian  borders  and  forbidden  to  return  on  pain  of  death. 

JouKNEY  TO  Africa. 

In  the  spring  of  1787,  less  than  a  year  after  his  depart- 
ure from  London,  Ledyard  returned  to  that  city  ragged 
and  penniless.  Sir  Joseph  Banks,  who  sailed  with  him 
under  Cook,  gave  him  welcome,  and  another  project  was 
proposed,  this  being  African  discovery.  The  adventurous 
Yankee  accepted  the  plan,  and  being  asked  when  he 
would  be  ready  to  march,  replied  :  "  To-morrow."  He 
left  London  as  soon  as  an  outfit  could  be  prepared,  and 
traveled  through  Europe  in  an  expeditious  manner,  reach- 
ing Alexandria  in  safety. 

His  plan  was  to  cross  the  African  continent  and  reach 
the  Atlantic  ocean,  but  death  overtook  him  before  he  had 
passed  the  pyramids.  The  society  which  employed  Led- 
yard considered  him  eminently  adapted  to  tlie  exploring 
service,  and  hence  felt  his  death  as  a  great  loss.  How  re- 
markable that  the  plan  projected  by  Ledyard  should  have 
eventually  been  carried  out  by  Stanley,  who,  being  com- 
missioned for  this  purpose  by  an  American,  gives  a  full 
share  of  the  honors  of  African  exploration  to  our  own 
country.  Reader,  in  view  of  the  honor  thus  conferred  on 
our  country,  does  not  John  Ledyard  deserve  a  monument? 


524  Our  Book. 

ALEXANDER  HAMILTON. 

Hamilton  was  the  most  versatile  man  of  his  day.  He 
was  an  able  lawyer,  a  powerful  writer,  an  admirable  ora- 
tor, a  fine  singer  and  a  brilliant  society  man.  He  also 
combined  the  soldier,  the  financier,  the  statesman,  and  all 
these  gifts  were  sublimed  by  the  most  devoted  patriotism. 
His  precocity  was  wonderful,  and  yet  it  was  only  a  natu- 
ral development.  At  the  age  of  thirteen  he  took  charge 
of  a  mercantile  establishment.  At  fifteen  his  writings 
attracted  notice,  and  even  commanded  applause.  At 
seventeen  he  addressed  a  pubhc  meeting  in  New  York 
with  great  eloquence.  At  nineteen  he  was  an  acknowl- 
edged writer  on  public  questions,  and  had  formulated,  in 
thought  at  least,  a  system  of  Federal  government.  At 
twenty  he  was  captain  of  an  artillery  company  raised  by 
himself,  and  soon  won  the  confidence  of  Washington,  who 
placed  him  on  his  staff. 

At  twenty-three  he  has  proved  liimself  a  master  of 
the  difficult  subject  of  national  finance.  By  the  time  he 
reaches  twenty-five  it  is  found  that,  even  with  so  limited 
an  opportunity  of  study,  he  has  become  a  first-class  law- 
yer. At  twenty-six  he  takes  rank  as  a  congressman  of 
marked  power.  At  thirty  he  is  a  leading  mind  in  fram- 
ing the  Federal  constitution.  At  tliirty-three  he  is  secre- 
tary of  the  treasury,  and  evolves  a  brilliant  and  success- 
ful system  of  finance,  by  means  of  which,  to  quote  the 
language  of  Webster,  ' '  he  touched  the  dead  corpse  of 
American  credit,  and  it  stood  upon  its  feet."  Where  in 
all  history  can  we  find  so  rapid  and  so  permanent  a  pro- 
gress in  the  combined  action  of  war  and  statesmanship  ? 

Misunderstood  and  Misrepresented. 
It  is,  however,  the  common  fate  of  such  men  to  be  mis- 


Hamilton.  525 

understood  and  misrepresented  by  a  large  portion  of  the 
public,  and  I  atn  impressively  reminded  of  this  by  tlio 
following  advertisement  from  the  Kew  York  Daily  Adver- 
tiser September  7,  1792 : 

Just  published.  Five  letters,  addressed  to  the  yeomen  of  the 
United  States,  containing  some  observations  on  the  dangerous 
scheme  of  Governor  Duer  and  Mr.  Secretary  Hamilton. 

Hamilton's  "  dangerous  scheme  "  was  the  means  of  sav- 
ing the  young  republic  from  bankruptcy.  One  of  the 
grandest  efforts  of  this  wonderful  man  was  his  triumph 
over  the  governor  of  the  State  (George  Clinton)  in  the 
convention  which  accepted  the  Federal  constitution.  Clin- 
ton threw  a  tremendous  influence  against  it,  and  being 
governor  as  well  as  delegate,  he  had  immense  weight. 
His  objection  was  that  the  State  of  New  York  would  be 
obliged  to  surrender  its  port  to  the  Union,  and  Clinton 
was  already  collecting  a  handsome  revenue  from  the  cus- 
toms. Hamilton  eloquently  argued  that  the  State  would 
be  the  gainer  b}^  the  sacrifice,  and  he  induced  the  repre- 
sentatives from  the  city  to  accept  his  views  in  antagonism 
to  the  governor.  The  result  was  that  the  constitution 
was  adopted,  and  though  the  majority  was  only  two,  it 
secured  to  the  State  the  highest  position  in  the  Union. 

Hamilton's  cocntky  Seat. 
The  Grange  was  built  for  a  summer  residence,  for  Ham- 
ilton's city  house  was  in  Garden  street,  now  Exchange 
place.  Attached  to  the  Grange  were  thirty  acres  of  wild 
land  and  a  large  garden,  whose  culture,  however,  must 
liave  been  a  labor  of  love  rather  than  profit.  Hamilton's 
good  judgment  was  shown  in  several  points.  For  in- 
stance, the  Grange  is  near  the  great  northern  road,  and 
its  grand  elevation  gave  it  an  extensive  view  of  Harlem, 
and  also  the  East  river.     At  no  other  place  in  that  vicinity 


526  OuK  Book. 

could  such  a  prospect  be  obtained,  and  tliis  selection  thus 
indicates  a  careful  choice. 

The  Grange  is  a  wooden  structure,  whose  porch  and 
piazza  are  reached  by  a  flight  of  steps.  The  hall  is  very 
broad,  and  the  ceilings  are  nearly  eleven  feet  high.  The 
apartments  must,  at  that  day,  have  been  considered  very 
grand,  and,  upon  the  whole,  it  was  no  doubt  one  of  the 
finest  rural  resorts  on  the  island.  To  this  place  Hamilton 
was  wont  to  invito  his  choice  friends,  and  it  has  witnessed 
some  of  the  most  interesting  gatherings  that  ever  occurred 
in  this  city.  On  the  fatal  morning  of  July  11,  1801:, 
Hamilton  left  the  Grange  in  order  to  meet  Burr  on  the 
"  field  of  honor,"  and  never  returned. 

The  thirteen  Trees. 
The  most  historic  trees  in  the  world  ai'c  the  thirteen 
planted  by  Hamilton  in  honor  of  the  Union.  His  efibrts 
to  establish  it  have  never  been  suitably  appreciated.  As 
a  member  of  the  convention  which  formed  the  constitu- 
tion, he  performed  no  ordinary  task,  and  he  was  pained 
to  see  that  instrument  opposed  by  some  of  the  most  influ- 
ential men  in  the  State.  The  constitution,  however,  tri- 
umphed, in  honor  of  v/hich  Hamilton  planted  a  tree  for 
every  State,  and  to  show  the  true  nature  of  the  Union  he 
placed  them  in  a  circle.  Those  who  now  visit  the  Grange 
will  see  these  very  trees,  but  instead  of  tender  saplings, 
one  beholds  lofty  height  and  spreading  verdure.  How 
strange  it  is  that  not  one  of  this  number  has  died.  On 
the  other  hand,  they  exhibit  a  varied  growth.  Some  are 
laro-er  than  others;  just  as  the  States  themselves  have 
varied  in  development.  This  group  of  trees  is  one  of  the 
most  remarkable  relics  in  America,  and  it  may  be  hoped 
that  they  will  be  carefully  preserved  whatever  may  be  the 
demands  of  progress.     B.y  way  of  explanation,  it  may  be 


THE    THIRTEEN    TREES    PLANTED    BY    ALEXANDER    HAMILTON. 


Hamilton.  527 

added  that  they  are  plane  trees,  a  species  noted  for  endu- 
rance. 

The  famous  Duel. 

Our  readers  are  so  familiar  with  this  harrowing:  affair 
that  I  sliall  only  mention  some  of  its  prominent  features. 
Burr  being  determined  to  liave  satisfaction  for  Hamilton's 
long-continued  opposition,  which  he  considered  the  cause 
of  his  political  ruin,  sent  a  message  demanding  explana- 
tion of  some  offensive  remarks.  This  took  place  on  the 
18th  of  June,  ISO-i.  Four  letters  were  exchanged  be- 
tween the  principals,  and  nine  days  elapsed  before  a  chal- 
lenge was  sent. 

Hamilton  had  a  clear  view  of  the  determination  of  his 
corresjDondent.  He  saw  that  a  hostile  message  was  inev- 
itable, and  being  in  obedience  to  what  are  falsely  called 
the  laws  of  honor,  he  accepted  it  as  soon  as  offered.  He 
was  conscientiously  opposed  to  the  practice,  with  very 
good  reason  indeed,  since  his  son  Philip  had  fallen  in  a 
duel  with  Captain  Eacker  two  years  previously  ;  but  he 
could  not  break  the  iron  rule  of  military  life.  He  would 
not  send  a  challenge,  but  he  would  not  refuse  one.  He  bad 
twenty  years  previously  served  as  a  second,  and  now  he 
appeared  as  a  principal. 

The  duel  to  which  I  refer  was  fought  between  General 
Lee  and  Colonel  Laurens,  and  the  seconds  were  respect- 
ively Major  Edwards  and  Colonel  Hamilton,  the  latter 
being  then  onl}^  twenty-two  years  old.  Lee,  who  hated 
Washington,  had  spoken  of  him  openly  in  terms  of  dis- 
respect, and  Laurens,  as  an  admirer  and  friend  of  the 
latter,  challenged  the  calumniator  to  mortal  combat.  This 
was  in  December,  1778,  and  the  meeting  took  place  near 
Philadelphia.  It  is  remarkable  that  Washington,  though 
opposed    to  duelling,  should  have  been  the  occasion  of 


528  Our  Book. 

two  hostile  meetings.  The  first  took  place  on  the  previ' 
ons  Fourth  of  July,  General  Cadwallader  having  chal- 
lenged General  Conway,  originator  of  the  cabal  whose 
object  was  to  supersede  Washington  by  Gates.  In  each 
of  these  occasions  the  offenders  were  wounded,  though* 
not  fatally  —  but  to  return  to  Hamilton  and  Burr. 

Appkoaching  Events. 

On  the  Fourth  of  July,  1804,  just  a  week  before  the 
duel,  both  parties  to  it  attended  the  dinner  of  the  Society 
of  the  Cincinnati.  Hamilton  was  in  good  spirits  and 
sang  The  Drum,  which  then  was  a  popular  song.  How 
little  was  it  then  dreamed  that  he  had  accepted  a  challenge  ! 
Burr,  on  the  other  hand,  conversed  very  little.  The  paper 
which  Hamilton  left  as  a  testimonial  against  duelling 
shows  that  his  conduct  was  in  opposition  to  his  conscience. 
He  felt  that  he  had  no  right  to  expose  a  life  which  his 
family  needed  so  deeply,  and  acting  as  he  did  in  face  of 
this  conclusion,  he  was  guilty  of  a  dreadful  wrong. 

Hamilton's  second  was  Nathaniel  Pendleton,  a  respecta- 
ble lawyer,  whose  office  was  at  Ko.  17  Wall  street.  Burr's 
second  was  William  P.  Yan  Ness,  also  a  lawyer,  whose 
office  was  at  No.  10  Pine  street,  near  the  Evening  Post 
establishment.  By  special  arrangement  the  meeting  was 
postponed  until  after  the  circuit  court,  which  was  held 
on  the  6th,  in  which  Hamilton  had  an  important  case. 
When  this  had  been  disposed  of,  Mr.  Pendleton  informed 
Van  Ness  that  his  principal  was  ready.  Sunday,  the  8th, 
was  passed  by  Hamilton  in  the  bosom  of  his  family. 
What  a  grievous  wrong  he  was  about  to  inilict  upon  them  ! 
On  Monday  he  made  his  will,  leaving  everything  to  his 
wife  and  commending  her  to  his  children.  Tuesday  was 
spent  in  preh'minaries  to  the  meeting,  which  was  to  come 
off  early  the  next  day.     A  surgeon  and  a  boatman  were 


Hamilton.  529 

to  be  engaged,  and  the  former  was  found  in  Dr.  Hosack, 
who  was  one  of  the  leading  practitioners  of  the  age. 

On  that  day  Burr  wrote  a  long  letter  to  Theodosia, 
giving  explicit  directions  as  to  the  disposition  of  his  af- 
fairs, and  also  advice  in  reference  to  the  education  of  her 
little  boy.  lie  also  wi'ote  a  careful  and  elaborate  letter 
to  her  husband,  in  which  other  details  are  given,  and  he 
concludes  with  the  brief  explanation  :  "  I  have  called 
out  General  Uamilton,  and  we  meet  to-morrow.  Van 
Ness  will  give  you  the  particulars.  The  preceding  has 
been  written  in  view  of  this.  If  it  should  be  my  lot  to 
fall  —  yet  I  shall  live  in  you  and  your  son,"  It  may  be 
observed  as  a  striking  contrast  not  only  that  Burr  did  not 
fall,  but  that  he  survived  both  his  daughter  and  her  hus- 
band, as  well  as  their  son,  and  died  in  miserable  old  age. 

The  Meeting. 

It  was  arranged  between  the  seconds  that  Burr  should 
be  on  the  ground  first,  and  he  must  have  left  Richmond 
Hill  before  six  o'clock.  Pendleton  says  that  at  seven  in 
the  morning  the  Hamilton  party  reached  the  spot  (which 
was  Weehawken),  and  the  ferryman  was  ordered  to  wait 
at  the  bank.  Burr  and  Van  Ness  were  busy  clearing  the 
ground  so  as  to  make  an  opening.  The  principals  saluted 
each  other  in  that  formal  manner  which  the  laws  of  honor 
demand.  The  distance  (ten  paces)  was  measured,  and 
then  Van  Ness  and  Pendleton  united  in  loading  a  brace 
of  pistols.  They  then  drew  for  choice  of  position,  which 
Hamilton  won,  and  the  combatants  immediately  took 
their  places. 

By  previous  agreement,  the  following  had  been  ar- 
ranged as  the  method  of  combat :  "  The  parties  having 
been  placed  in  proper  position,  the  second  who  gives  the 

word  shall  ask  them  if  they  are  ready,  and  being  answered 
67 


530  ^UR  liooK. 

in  the  affirmative  shall  sav  '  present,'  and  after  tliis  the 
parties  shall  present  and  fire  when  thej  please."  The 
word  was  given  by  Pendleton,  and  both  parties  presented 
and  fired  in  succession.  Pendleton  says  that  Burr  took 
deliberate  aim,  Hamilton  fired  after  Burr,  but  the  inter- 
vening time  was  a  matter  of  disagreement.  It  could  not, 
however,  have  been  more  than  two  or  three  seconds,  for 
he  fell  mortally  wounded  by  the  first  fire.  Burr  imme- 
diately advanced  toward  the  wounded  man  with  an  ex- 
pression of  regret,  and  then,  without  speaking,  turned  and 
left  the  field.  The  spot  on  which  EEamilton  fell  was 
subsequently  indicated  by  a  monument  placed  there  by 
the  St.  Andrew's  Society,  of  which -Hamilton  was  a  mem- 
ber. It  stood  in  what  was  Thirty-first  street  in  the  old 
Weehawken  district,  but  the  improvement  in  that  vicinity 
has  required  its  removal. 

As  Hamilton  sank  to  the  ground  Pendleton  ran  to  his 
assistance,  and  Dr.  Ilosack,  who  heard  the  firing,  was  also 
immediately  at  hand.  The  unfortunate  man  was  hardly 
able  to  speak.  They  carried  him  down  to  the  boat,  pass- 
ing the  Burr  party,  and  to  prevent  identification  Yan 
Ness  covered  his  principal  with  his  opened  umbrella. 
Burr  was  rowed  as  rapidly  as  possible  to  Richmond  Hill, 
where  he  remained  several  days  and  then  went  to  Phila- 
delphia. He  felt  that  his  crime  had  exiled  him  from 
New  York,  and  he  did  not  revisit  that  city  until  after  the 
lapse  of  eight,  years. 

Hosack's  Statement. 
Dr.  Hosack  says  he  found  Hamilton  sitting  on  the 
ground  upheld  by  the  arms  of  his  second.  "  His  coun- 
tenance I  shall  never  forget ;  he  had  just  strength  enough 
to  say  '  this  is  a  mortal  wound,'  and  then  sank  back  to 
the  ground  apparently  lifeless."    The  ferrymen  put  forth 


Hamilton.  531 

every  effort  to  return,  and  the  sea  breeze  revived  the 
wounded  man,  who  immediately  referred  to  his  wife. 
"Let  her  be  sent  for,"  said  he;  ''but  break  the  news 
gently  and  give  her  hope."  Dr.  Hosack  soon  found  the 
words  of  the  unfortunate  man  too  true ;  the  wound  was 
mortal.  Mrs.  Hamilton  and  the  family  reached  Baj^ard's 
about  noon,  and  here  the  dying  man  took  his  last  view  of 
that  group  which  hf  had  so  greatly  wronged.  The  spec- 
tacle was  too  painful  for  him,  and  he  closed  his  eyes  in 
mental  agony ;  but  when  the  children  (six  in  number) 
were  withdrawn,  he  consoled  his  wife  with  the  words: 
"  Remember,  Eliza,  you  are  a  Christian."  He  was  sub- 
sequently visited  by  Bishop  Moore,  who  was  gratified  to 
hear  the  dying  man's  repentance,  and  administered  to  him 
the  communion  according  to  the  custom  of  the  Protestant 
Episcopal  clmrcli.  Hamilton's  wound  was  beyond  human 
aid.  Hosack  found,  on  post-mortem  examination,  that 
the  bullet  had  fractured  the  third  rib  and  then  passed 
through  the  liver  and  diaphragm  and  lodged  in  the  second 
lumbar  vertebra,  Hamilton  lingered  in  great  agOTiy  until 
the  next  day  at  two  o'clock  in  the  afternoon,  when  he 
expired.     Thus  Aaron  Buit  obtained  ''satisfaction." 

The  Funeral. 
Hamilton's  city  residence  was  closed  for  the  season,  or 
the  funeral  would  probably  have  been  held  there.  The 
remains,  however,  were  removed  from  Bayard's  to  the 
house  of  John  B.  Church,  down  town.  Church  was  Ham- 
ilton's brother-in-law  and  was  so  dear  a  friend  that  he  had 
been  named  as  one  of  the  executors  of  his  will,  and  no 
doubt  craved  this  last  privilege  of  hospitality  to  the  hon- 
ored dead.  Coleman,  editor  of  the  Evening  Post,  in  re- 
ferring to  the  sad  event,  says  :  "  In  the  death  of  General 
Hamilton  I  have  lost  my  ablest  adviser  and  my  dearest 


532  OuK  Book. 

friend,"   and  on  the  day  of  the  funeral   the  office  was 
closed  and  no  paper  issued. 

The  obsequies  were  under  the  control  of  the  Society  of 
the  Cincinnati.  At  ten  o'clock  Colonel  Morton  and  his 
corps  appeared  in  the  park  with  six  pieces  of  artillery. 
Two  of  these  were  stationary,  and  fired  minute  guns  dur- 
ing the  procession,  of  which  the  others  formed  an  impos- 
ing feature.  The  Cincinnati  and  the  clergy  met  in  the 
college  nearby,  and  thus, in  detail,  a  grand  funeral  column 
was  formed,  which  marched  from  Greenwich  street  up  to 
the  city  hall  park,  then  down  Bcekinan  street  and  up 
Pearl  to  Whitehall  street,  after  which  it  swept  through 
Broadway  until  it  reached  Trinity  church.  Governeur 
Morris  then  delivered  an  appropriate  eulogy,  and  the  re- 
mains were  buried  and  three  volleys  were  tired  over  the 
grave.  The  monument  placed  here  is  still  one  of  the 
most  interesting  features  in  Trinity  church  yard.  Fifty- 
three  years  after  his  burial  the  remains  of  his  widow  were 
laid  by  his  side. 

Hamilton's  Preparations. 

On  examining  the  real  estate  record  of  New  York,  I 
find  that  on  the  Cth  of  July,  ISO-i,  the  unfortunate  states- 
man executed  a  deed  of  trust  conveying  all  his  property 
to  John  B.  Church  and  William  Pendleton  (his  second) 
for  the  purpose  of  meeting  his  debts,  and  especially  a 
note  due  at  the  Bank  of  New  York  for  $900. 

He  also  specifies  that  a  set  of  the  British  classics  just 
received  from  the  bookseller  (but  not  paid  for)  be  re- 
turned. This  shows  Hamilton's  honesty  in  business  mat- 
ter?, and  had  he  been  equally  honest  toward  his  family  he 
never  would  hare  risked  his  life  merely  to  obey  the  mis- 
called laws  of  honor.  This  deed  of  trust  is  the  last 
record  of  Alexander  Hamilton  in  the  library  of  the  regis- 


Hamilton.  533 

ter's  office,  and  it  was  liis  last  work  prior  to  the  duel,  with 
the  exception  of  his  will.  It  was  executed  on  Saturday, 
and  the  next  Saturday  witnessed  his  funeral. 

His  Will. 

On  the  9th  of  July,  two  days  before  the  duel,  Hamil- 
ton made  his  will,  for,  though  he  really  had  nothing  to 
bequeath,  he  desired  to  give  utterance  to  his  feelings  in 
view  of  a  possibly  fatal  result,  and  he  also  desired  to  im- 
press upon  his  children  a  full  sense  of  filial  duty.  How 
sad,  and  yet  how  tender  are  the  utterances  which  I  quote 
from  this  instrument,  which  may  be  found  in  the  surro- 
gate's office  : 

Though,  if  it  should  please  God  to  spare  my  life,  I  may  look  for 
a  considerable  surplus  out  of  my  present  property ;  yet,  if  he  should 
speedily  call  me  into  the  eternal  world,  a  forced  sale,  as  is  usual, 
may  possibly  render  it  insufficient  to  satisfy  my  debts. 

I  pray  God  that  sometliing  may  remain  for  the  maintenance  and 
education  of  my  dear  wife  and  children.  But  if,  on  the  contrary, 
it  happens  that  there  is  not  enough  for  payment  of  my  debts,  I 
entreat  my  dear  children,  if  they  or  any  of  them  sliall  ever  be 
able,  to  make  up  the  deficiency. 

I,  without  hesitation,  commit  to  their  delicacy  a  wish  which  is 
dictated  by  my  own.  Though  conscious  I  have  too  far  sacrificed 
the  interests  of  my  family  to  public  avocations,  and,  on  this  ac- 
count, have  less  claim  to  burden  my  children,  yet  I  trust  in  their 
magnanimity  to  appreciate,  as  they  ought,  my  request. 

In  so  unfavorable  an  event,  the  support  of  their  dear  mother, 
with  the  most  respectful  and  tender  affection,  is  a  duty  —  all  the 
sacredness  of  which  they  will  feel. 

Does  it  not  seem  almost  incredible  that  a  man  who  could 
write  thus  tenderly  should  set  himself  up  for  a  mark  for 
a  duelist  ?  "Why  did  not  a  sense  of  his  duty  to  that  be- 
loved family  lead  him  to  resist  the  miscalled  law  of  honor  ? 
It  is  certainly  very  strange. 

Hamilton  and  the  Cincinnati. 
The  most  impressive  meeting  of  this  society  was  held 
in  honor  of  Gen.  Hamilton.     It  took  place  on  the  last 


534  Our  Book. 

day  of  July,  1804,  in  tlie  church  which  formerly  occupied 
the  comer  of  William  and  Fulton  streets,  and  the  address 
on  the  occasion  was  delivered  by  John  M.  Mason,  who 
was  an  honorary  member.  The  month  was  an  eventful 
one  in  the  records  of  the  Cincinnati.  They  celebrated 
the  Fourth  by  a  dinner  at  the  City  hotel,  Burr  and  Ham- 
ilton being  both  present.  The  latter  appeared  in  good 
spirits,  and  entertained  the  company  with  The  Drum, 
which  was  then  a  popular  song.  How  little  did  that 
assemblage  imagine  that  the  deed  was  even  then  already 
planned,  and  the  very  day  appointed. 

On  the  11th  the  city  was  convulsed  with  the  news  of 
the  bloody  result.  The  next  day  Hamilton  died,  and  the 
Cincinnati  formed  an  impressive  feature  in  the  funeral 
procession.  The  occasion  to  which  I  have  referred  was 
the  finale  in  this  sad  succession,  and  Mason's  address  was 
the  finest  of  his  efforts.  It  may  be  included  among  the 
best  specimens  of  American  eloquence,  for  Mason  was 
really  the  most  impressive  speaker  of  his  day,  and  his  in- 
tensity of  thought  and  pungency  of  expression  rendered 
him,  indeed,  a  model  of  oratory.  The  society  afterward 
erected  a  tablet  in  the  interior  of  Trinity  church,  and  the 
inscription,  also  from  the  pen  of  Mason,  is  so  admirable 
that  I  add  it,  not  only  as  appropriate  to  the  subject,  but 
also  as  one  of  the  finest  paragraphs  in  our  language : 

This  tablet  does  not  propose  to  perpetuate  the  memory  of  a  man 
to  whom  the  age  has  produced  no  superior,  nor  to  emblazon  worth 
eminently  conspicuous  in  every  feature  of  his  country's  greatness, 
nor  to  anticipate  posterity  in  its  judgment  of  the  loss  which  she 
has  sustained  Ity  his  premature  deatli,  but  to  attest,  in  the  sim- 
plicity of  grief,  the  veneration  and  anguish  which  fill  the 
hearts  of  the  society  of  the  Cincinnati  on  every  recollection 
of  their  illustrious  brother,  Major-General  Alexander  Hamil- 
ton. 

Reader,  did  you  ever  meet  any  thing  more  simple,  more 
powerful  and  more  comprehensive. 


ALEXANDER    HAMILTON, 


Mason's  Tkieute.  635 

John  M.  Mason  was  the  ablest  preacher  of  that  day 
and  was  often  designated  tlie  Thunderer.  He  was  an 
intimate  friend  of  Hamilton  and  wrote  the  epitaph  upon 
his  monument ;  also  the  inscription  on  the  tablet  in 
Trinity  Church  —  both  of  which  are  very  felicitous.  He 
was  invited  to  deliver  an  address  before  the  Society  of 
the  Cincinnati  on  the  occasion  of  Hamilton's  death.  This 
took  place  a  few  days  after  the  funeral,  and  I  offer  the 
following  extract : 

Whoever  was  second  Hamilton  must  be  first.  To  his  stupen- 
dous and  versatile  mind  no  investigation  was  difficult.  Superi- 
ority, in  some  particular,  belong  to  thousands.  Pre-eminence  in 
whatever  he  cliose  to  undertake,  was  the  sole  prerogative  of  Ham- 
ilton. No  fixed  criterion  could  be  applied  to  his  talents.  Often 
has  their  display  been  supposed  to  have  reached  the  limit  of  hu- 
man effort ;  and  this  opinion  stood  firm  till  set  aside  by  himself. 

When  a  cause  of  new  magnitude  required  his  exertion  he  rose, 
he  towered,  he  soared,  surpassing  himself  as  he  had  surpassed 
others.  Then  was  nature  tributary  to  his  eloquence!  Then  was 
felt  his  despotism  over  the  heart  1  Touching  at  his  pleasure  every 
string  of  pity  or  terror,  of  indignation  or  grief,  he  melted,  he 
soothed,  he  aroused,  he  agitated  —  alternately  gentle  as  the  dew, 
and  awful  as  the  thunder  —  yet,  great  as  he  was  in  the  eyes  of  the 
world,  he  was  still  greater  to  those  with  whom  he  was  the  most 
conversant. 

The  greatness  of  most  men,  like  objects  seen  through  a  mist, 
diminishes  with  the  distance;  but  Hamilton,  like  a  tower  seen 
afar  off  under  a  clear  sky,  rose  in  grandeur  and  sublimity  with 
every  step  of  approach.  Familiarity  with  him  was  the  parent  of 
veneration.  Over  these  matchless  talents,  probity  threw  her 
brightest  lustre,  while  tenderness  and  benevolence  breathed 
through  their  exercise.  But,  he  is  gone;  that  noble  heart  is  silent 
in  death,  and  the  brightest  gleam  of  American  glory  is  extin- 
guished in  the  tomb. 

Hamilton's  death  Place. 
Biographers  say  that  "  Hamilton  died  at  the  house  of 
a  friend  in  the  suburbs  of  the  city."  Such  a  statement, 
however,  could  not  satisfy  a  careful  enquirer  and  hence  I 
was  determined  to  make  close  investigation.  I  learned  that 
the  friend  referred  to  was  William  Bayard,  a  prominent 
business  man,  who  had  a  farm  and  country  seat  at  Green- 


536  Our  Book. 

wich,  a  village  which  then  clustered  on  the  banks  of  the 
Hudson  within  walking  distance  from  the  city.  Being 
desirous  of  visiting  the  house  I  found  it  in  Jane  street 
about  a  mile  and  a  half  from  the  Battery.  It  was  three 
stories  high  and  of  old-fashion  breadth,  with  hall  in  the 
center,  and  though  built  of  wood,  had  been  kept  in  pres- 
ervation by  paint,  the  color  being  light  browm. 

Kinging  at  the  door  I  was  ushered  into  a  spacious  hall 
where  the  "  lady  of  the  house "  soon  appeared.  She 
readily  guessed  the  object  of  my  visit  and  seemed  pleased 
to  inhabit  a  place  of  such  historic  character.  She  had  a 
sub-tenant  occupying  part  of  the  house,  but  I  was  made 
equally  welcome  by  both  families. 

One  of  the  "  ladies"  seemed  to  look  on  my  visit  as  a 
matter  of  course.  "  Oh,  yes,"  said  she,  "  there  w^as  a 
man  here  awhile  ago  and  photographed  the  house  and  me 
sitting  in  the  window."  "  Why  did  he  photograph  it  ?" 
was  my  inquiry,  for  I  had  not  mentioned  any  names  and 
was  desirous  to  see  what  she  knew  on  the  subject.  "  Why, 
sir,  there  was  a  great  man  died  here  and  he  was  a  gen- 
eral," was  the  reply,  "  but  I  don't  know  his  name.  lie 
was  a  great  man  though,  and  somebody  killed  liim  and 
everybody  felt  bad,  but  I  don't  know  what  his  name 
was."  Reader,  how  could  I  avoid  smiling  to  myself  and 
recalling  Byron's  lines  on  revisiting  the  grave  of  a  dis- 
tinguished poet,  of  whom  the  sexton  knew  nothing  : 

*     *     *    *     For  I  did  dwell 
With  a  deep  thought  and  a  softened  eye 
On  that  old  sexton's  natural  homily, 
In  which  there  was  obscurity  and  fame, 
The  glory  and  the  nothing  of  a  name. 

Going  up  stairs  I  could  not  but  notice  the  dignity  and 
elegance  of  the  upper  rooms,  especially  when  I  consid- 
ered that  this  was  but  a  summer  house.  The  ceilings 
were  high  and  the  wooden  mantels  must,  in  their  day. 


Hamilton.  537 

have  been  the  best  of  workmanship.  While  I  was  look- 
ing at  them  the  woman  explained  :  "  There  was  an  old 
man  came  here  a  spell  ago,  and  he  looked  at  them  and 
then  he  looked  at  everything  else,  and  said  it  hadn't  been 
changed  since  he  was  a  boy."  This  man,  of  course,  must 
have  been  some  branch  of  the  Bayard  family,  but  my 
informant  could  not  give  me  his  name. 

The  death  Room. 

*'  Can  you  tell  me  where  the  General  died  ? "  was  my 
inquiry,  after  finishing  my  survey  of  up-stairs.  "  Oil, 
yes,"  was  the  reply,  "  lie  died  down  stairs  in  the  back 
room."  We  proceeded  thither,  and  I  immediately  per- 
ceived this  to  be  the  best  place  in  the  house  for  a  sick 
man.  It  looked  out  on  a  pretty  yard  and  was  connected 
with  the  front  parlor  by  folding  doors.  This  was  the 
place  where  the  greatest  statesman  of  his  day  passed  the 
last  hours  of  his  life,  suffering  the  agony  of  a  mortal 
wound  and  the  deeper  agony  of  parting  from  a  wife  and 
six  children,  who  were  left  with  no  visible  means  of  sup- 
port. The  mourning  family,  in  this  very  room,  sur- 
rounded the  dying  bed,  and  thence  the  corpse  was  borne 
down  town  for  the  purpose  of  holding  the  funeral  ser- 
vices. The  latter  began  at  the  house  of  Hamilton's 
brother-in-law,  John  B.  Church,  but  were  concluded  in 
Trinity  with  all  the  impressive  accompaniments  of  such 
an  occasion.  I  regret  to  add  that  not  long  after  my  visit 
the  Bayard  house  was  demolished  in  order  to  give  place 
to  a  more  profitable  building. 

Hamilton's  Monument. 
Having  stood  more  than  eighty  years,  it  had  fallen  into 
a  bad  condition,  but  recent  repair  has  fully  restored  it, 
and  the  epitaph  is  clearly  legible.     The  latter  is  much  ad- 


533  Our  Book. 

mired,  and  as  it  may  interest  some  of  our  readers,  I  add 
a  copy  : 

To  the  memory  of 

ALEXANDER   HAMILTON, 

The  corporation  of  Trinity  church  has  erected  this 

MONUMENT 

In  testimony  for  their  respect 
For 
The  patriot  of  incorruptible  integrity; 
The  Soldier  of  approved  valor; 
The  Statesman  of  consummate  wisdom, 
Whose  talents  and  virtues  will  be  admired 
By 
Grateful  posterity 
Long  after  this  marble  shall  have  moldered  into 

DUST. 

He  died  July  12,  1804,  aged  47. 

The  Eacker  Duel. 

The  most  talented  of  Hamilton's  sons  was  the  first  born. 
He  was  named  Philip,  after  his  grandfather.  Gen.  Schuy- 
ler, and  was  considered  a  brilliant  youth.  At  nineteen 
he  had  graduated  at  Columbia  college,  and  was  an  active 
young  politician,  a  fact  which  easily  explains  the  way  in 
which  he  met  his  death.  At  that  time  duels  were  a  very 
common  way  of  settling  political  quarrels,  and  every  lead- 
ing man  was  obliged  to  bo  ready  at  any  time  to  send  or 
accept  a  challenge.  This  is  illustrated  by  the  untimely 
death  of  Philip  Hamilton. 

His  antagonist  was  an  ambitious  young  man  from  Pala- 
tine, New  York,  named  George  Eacker,  who  had  lived  in 
New  York  seven  years,  during  which  time  he  had  studied 
law  with  Brockholst  Livingston,  and  had  become  one  of 
the  best  lawyers  of  the  day.  Eacker  also  had  a  military 
taste  and  was  captain  in  the  militia.  He  had  reached  his 
twenty-fourth  year  and  was  invited  to  deliver  the  Fourth 
of  July  oration,  which  then  was  a  great  distinction. 
Eacker  was  an  admirer  of  Burr,  and  was  a  political  oppo- 
nent of  Hamilton.     Hence  the  young  Federalists  turned 


Hamilton.  639 

tLeir  shafts  upon  him,  and  as  a  point  of  ridicule  called 
him  "  the  Mohawk  Dutchman." 

One  evening  Philip  Hamilton,  accompanied  by  a  young 
friend  named  Price,  entered  the  Park  theater  and  saw 
Eacker  there  accompanied  by  some  ladies.  He  made  use 
of  a  contemptuous  expression,  to  whicli  Eacker  retorted, 
and  added  that  he  expected  to  hear  from  them.  This 
hint  was  enough.  According  to  the  code  of  honor,  both 
Price  and  Hamilton  were  obliged  to  challenge  him,  and 
this  was  done  that  very  night.  Eacker  accepted,  and  the 
next  Sunday  was  appointed  for  their  meeting.  Price 
came  first,  and  after  five  shots  had  been  exchanged  with- 
out effect,  the  seconds  interfered  and  declared  their 
honor  purged.  Hamilton  fought  next  day  and  was 
mortally  wounded  at  the  first  fire.  He  was  buried  in 
Trinity  church  yard,  and  within  two  years  his  father 
was  laid  by  his  side,  a  similar  victim  to  the  laws  of 
honor. 

A  peculiar  feature  in  these  duels  is  the  fact  neither  of 
the  Hamiltons  had  any  murderous  desire.  One  of  them 
was  the  challenger  and  the  other  was  the  challenged  party, 
but  both  fell.  That  no  stone  commemorates  the  name  of 
Philip  Hamilton  may  be  explained  by  the  fact  that  his 
father's  monument  covers  both  graves. 

Eacker's  Grave. 
Captain  Eacker  lived  at  No.  50  Wall  street,  the  spot 
being  now  occupied  by  a  palatial  bank  building  that  cost 
$1,000,000.  He  died  of  consumption  in  little  more  than 
two  years  after  the  duel,  and  was  buried  with  military 
honors.  Having  learned  that  he  was  buried  in  St.  Paul's 
church  yard,  I  spent  a  long  time  in  searching  for  the 
grave,  which  was  marked  by  a  small  headstone  bearing 
the  following  inscription  :  _ 


540  OuK  Book. 

In  memory  of 

Captain  George  I.  Backer, 

Died  January  24,  1804, 

Aged  26  years. 

Less  than  six  months  after  Eacker's  death  the  senior 
Hamilton  was  shot,  and  was  buried  by  the  side  of  his 
son,  and  these  three  are  the  only  duelists  whose  graves 
are  to  be  found  in  New  York. 

The  last  fatal  Duel. 

The  last  duel  of  a  fatal  character  in  which  a  resident 
of  New  York  was  engaged,  took  place  in  1827.  William 
G.  Graham,  son  of  a  leading  merchant,  was  connected 
with  the  Courier  and  Enquirer.  He  was  a  man  of  fine 
personal  appearance,  attractive  manners,  and  unusual  cul- 
ture, having  been  educated  at  Cambridge  university, 
England,  where  he  became  acquainted  with  Talfourd. 
Making  the  tour  of  Europe  he  returned  and  became  an 
able  editor.  He  wrote  some  sketches  of  our  distinguished 
families,  in  which  he  spoke  disrespectfully  of  the  Liv- 
ingstons. This  was  resented  by  Dr.  Burton,  afterward 
secretary  of  legation  at  Paris,  and  an  altercation  took 
place  at  Niblo's  saloon,  corner  Pine  and  William  streets. 
Graham  knocked  the  doctor  down  and  a  challenge  fol- 
lowed. Graham  was  an  avowed  duelist  and  accepted  the 
hostile  message  with  all  the  promptness  required  by  the 
so-called  law  of  honor.  The  day  before  the  meeting  he 
wrote  a  letter  to  the  Evening  Post  in  which  he  said,  "I 
admit  I  am  wrong  in  striking  Burton,  thus  forcing  him 
into  the  position  of  challenger,  but  it  is  out  of  the  ques- 
tion for  mc  to  explain,  retract  or  apologize ;  after  he  is 
perfectly  satisfied  I  may  perhaps  apologize  —  that  is,  if  I 
am  fatally  wounded  ; "  and  he  closes  with  the  remark : 
"  What  can  a  poor  fellow  do  except  bow  to  the  supremacy 
of  custom  ? "     The  parties  met  at  Hoboken,  and  Graham 


Aaron  Burr.  541 

fell  dead  at  the  first  fire.  This  fearful  tragedy  led  to  the 
anti-duelKng  law.  It  is  remarkable  that  there  has  been 
but  one  prosecution  under  the  latter,  this  having  been 
the  Webb  and  Marshall  case. 


BURR'S  BIOGRAPHER 

It  is  astonishing  to  see  what  a  bungling  job  Matthew  L. 
Davis  made  of  so  interesting  a  subject  as  the  life  of  Aaron 
Burr.  The  chief  value  of  the  book  is  its  copious  extracts 
from  the  correspondence  so  long  maintained  between 
Burr  and  his  daughter.  This  is  of  such  a  free  and  social 
character  that  it  hardly  seems  like  the  epistolary  inter- 
course between  parent  and  child.  Conversing  with  a 
man  who  knew  Burr,  at  least  in  his  latter  days,  I  alluded 
to  the  inferiority  of  Davis'  life.  He  replied  that  Burr 
did  not  have  a  correct  idea  of  Davis'  abilities.  They  had, 
however,  been  friends  for  forty  years,  and  hence  Burr 
made  him  his  literary  executor.  Davis  witnessed  the  duel 
between  Hamilton  and  Burr,  and  when  the  latter  wrote  to 
Allston  :  "  One  of  my  friends  is  in  prison  for  refusing  to 
testify  against  me,"  he  referred  to  his  subsequent  biogra- 
pher. Davis  survived  Burr  fifteen  years,  and  died  in  New 
York  at  eighty-four.  He  was  a  printer,  and  in  this  man- 
ner learned  to  write  and  for  some  years  was  New  York 
correspondent  of  the  London  Times,  being  then  known 
as  the  Old  Man  in  Specs. 

Barton's  biography  is  a  much  more  interesting  picture 
of  Bui'r  and  his  times,  but  the  author  did  not  have  space 
for  Theodosia's  correspondence,  which  really  is  too  im- 
portant to  be  lost.  I  know  of  nothing  like  it  in  the 
whole  world  of  literature  and  only  wish  that  Davis  had 


542  OtJR  Book. 

been  more  liberal  in  this  respect.  Burr  is  mentioned 
anonymously  in  Mrs.  Coghlan's  Memoirs,  which  is  a  rare 
and  curious  book.  She  was  the  daughter  of  Captain 
Moncrieffe,  a  Bi-itish  officer,  who  was  stationed  in  New 
York  during  the  early  part  of  the  Revolution.  Aaron 
Burr,  who  was  then  a  subaltern,  made  her  acquaintance, 
and  she  confesses  that  she  immediately  fell  in  love  with 
him,  and  though  she  concealed  his  name,  the  identity  is 
very  apparent. 

Fictions  concerning  Bure. 

It  is  said  that  on  one  occasion  Burr,  during  his  latter 
days,  entered  the  court-room  in  New  York  and  that  the 
whole  bar  at  once  rose  as  a  mark  of  respect.  It  is  also 
said  that  on  another  occasion  he  happened  to  meet  a  young 
man  in  company,  whom  he  approached  with  extended 
hand.  The  other,  however,  drew  back,  and  pointing  the 
finger  of  scorn,  exclaimed :  "  I  am  the  son  of  Alexander 
Hamilton  ! " 

It  is  also  said,  that  after  Burr's  death,  a  mysterious  lady 
came  to  Princeton  and  often  visited  his  grave,  which  she 
adorned  with  flowers.  She  afterward  disappeared,  but  it 
was  found  that  a  monument  had  been  erected  over  the 
grave  at  midnight  and  it  was  inferred  that  this  woman 
must  be  its  author.  It  was  also  said  by  Barton  that 
Burr's  last  word  was  "madame" — thus  indicating  the 
power  of  his  ruling  passion,  the  love  of  the  fair  sex. 

All  these  reports,  as  well  as  those  concerning  Theodosia, 
however,  are  incorrect.  One  of  the  Edwards  family  who 
was  present  at  the  death  scene,  told  me  that  Burr  was 
unable  to  speak  for  some  time  prior  to  liis  last  breath,  but 
appeared  extremely  anxious  to  say  something,  as  though 
to  unburden  his  mind.  This,  however,  was  beyond  his 
power. 


Aaron  Bttrr.  543 

As  for  the  monument  over  his  grave  all  romance  is  dis- 
pelled bj  the  fact  that  it  was  erected  by  his  kindred,  the 
Edwards,  who  were  then  rich,  and  held  both  social  and  pro- 
fessional prominence.  Going  still  farther  back  —  even  to 
the  time  of  the  famous  duel  —  I  find,  by  referring  to  the 
journals  of  that  day,  that  Burr  wore  a  suit  of  silk  beneath 
his  other  clothing.  This  report  was  based  on  the  idea 
prevalent  at  that  time  that  silk  was  bullet  proof.  Of 
course,  it  was  false,  but  it  illustrates  the  extent  with  which 
fiction  has  invested  the  history  of  Aaron  Burr. 

Burr's  land  Operations. 

Burr  was  a  bold  land  speculator,  and  during  the  twenty 
years  which  preceded  the  duel,  he  made  twenty -four  pur- 
chases and  eighty -four  sales,  such  at  least  being  the  num- 
ber on  record.  This  was  a  large  business  for  one  who 
began  penniless,  and  it  indicates  his  love  of  speculation 
and  adventure.  On  the  other  hand  Hamilton  made  but 
two  purchases,  one  of  which  was  the  Grange,  which  is 
still  in  existence,  but  will  soon  be  demolished.  He  gave 
$2,000  for  the  land,  which  included  about  thirty  acres. 
The  purchase  was  made  July  7, 1797,  and  only  five  weeks 
previously  Burr  had  purchased  Richmond  Hill,  which  in- 
cluded almost  an  equal  extent.  Burr,  however,  had  pre- 
viously occupied  Richmond  Hill  as  a  tenant  for  several 
years,  and  his  purchase  was,  in  fact,  only  the  acquisition 
of  a  long  lease.  He  was  to  pay  a  ground  rent  to  Trinity 
church  of  $201.71  for  twenty-one  years,  with  privilege  of 
two  renewals,  at  a  valuation.  This  lease  was  a  fortune  in 
itself,  but  the  duel  destroyed  all  plans.  It  also  explains 
the  power  of  attorney,  which  I  find  on  record,  dated 
August  10,  180-1,  which  empowers  Matthew  L.  Davis  to 
sell  any  or  all  of  his  real  estate  and  to  give  deeds.  Burr 
executed  this  in  view  of  long  proti-acted  absence. 


544  Our  Booit. 

In  the  meantime,  however,  John  Jacob  Astor  was  eager 
to  improve  his  opportunity.  Knowing  that  Burr  would 
be  driven  into  exile,  he  began  a  negotiation  for  Richmond 
Hill,  and  Burr  stayed  after  the  dnel  ten  days  beyond 
his  appointed  time  for  departure  in  order  to  consummate 
the  transaction.  Tlie  result  was  that  Astor  bought  the 
lease  for  $10,000,  and  in  this  manner  held  three  hundred 
and  fifty  lots  for  sixty-six  years,  at  an  average  rent  of 
seventy-five  cents  a  lot.  The  lease  expired  in  1866,  and 
the  lots  were  then  each  worth  $200  a  year. 

The  above  conveyance  to  Astor  is  the  last  that  bears 
the  name  of  Aaron  Burr,  except  when  acting  as  trustee. 
The  latter  occurred  when  he  had  charge  of  the  Eden  es- 
tate,    lie  never  bought  a  foot  of  land  after  the  duel. 

A  very  peculiar  illustration  of  Burr's  imperturbable 
frame  is  found  in  the  fact  that  on  the  11th  of  July  —  the 
very  day  of  the  duel  —  ho  executed  a  deed  in  favor  of 
Jacob  Marks  of  a  lot  in  Carmine  street.  The  price  was 
$200,  Carmine  street  then  was  a  suburb,  but  now  a  busi- 
ness thoroughfare,  and  such  lots  are  worth  $25,000. 

BuRE  A2^D  Greeley. 

Barely  are  two  public  men  found  more  widely  different 
in  character  than  Aaron  Burr  and  Horace  Greeley,  and 
yet  both  fell  into  the  same  political  blunder  which  in 
each  case  was  ruinous.  Greeley  was  nominated  as  an  in- 
dependent candidate  for  the  presidency  in  1872,  and  later 
on  and  contrary  to  his  expectations,  was  also  nominated 
by  tlie  Democrats.  This  placed  him  in  a  false  position 
and  caused  him  great  agony.  The  last  three  months  of 
the  canvass,  indeed,  was  a  protracted  martyrdom,  and  he 
died  a  victim  to  this  unexpected  complication. 

A  striking  precedent  is  found  in  Burr,  for  when  his 
vice-presidency  had  reached  its  third  year  he  received  a 


Aaron  Burr.  545 

nomination  as  independent  candidate  for  governor  of  New 
York.  His  own  party  being  dissatisfied  with  tliis  move- 
ment made  what  they  called  a  regular  nomination,  placing 
Morgan  Lewis  at  the  head  of  the  ticket.  The  Federal- 
ists, thereupon,  nominated  Burr,  who  thus  found  himself 
in  the  bosom  of  a  party  which  he  had  opposed  for  twenty 
years. 

A  number  of  leading  Federalists  then  attacked  him 
just  as  some  leading  Democrats  fought  Greeley,  and  the 
result  was  a  tremendous  defeat.  Hamilton  was  one  of 
Burr's  most  powerful  opponents  and  hence  was  singled  out 
for  revenge,  and  the  duel  took  place  only  three  months 
after  Burr's  defeat  in  the  gubernatorial  canvass. 

YOTAGE    UP   THE    HuDSON. 

Burr,  who  wrote  everything  to  his  daughter,  gives  her 

the  following  description   of  a  voyage  up  the  Hudson  : 

The  heailache  with  which  I  left  New  York  grew  so  extreme 
that,  finding  it  impossible  to  proceed  in  the  stage,  the  view  of  a 
vessel  off  Tarrytown  under  full  sail,  tempted  me  to  go  aboard. 
We  reached  West  Point  that  night  and  lay  at  anclior  nearly  three 
days.  After  a  variety  of  changes  from  sloop  to  wagon,  from 
wagon  to  canal,  and  from  canal  to  sloop  again,  I  reached  Albany. 

IJow  little  could  we  have  dreamed  that  the  time  would 
come  when  a  daily  average  of  ten  thousand  passengers 
would  make  the  same  trip  in  four  hours.  It  is  well  to 
remember  such  things  when  one  is  inclined  to  grieve  for 
the  loss  of  the  good  old  times. 

Here  is  another  dated  Albany,  August  4,  1797 : 

We  arrived  here  yesterday  after  a  hot,  tedious  passage  of  seven 
days.  The  first  evening  being  under  full  sail,  we  ran  ashore  at 
Tappan  and  lay  there  twenty-four  hours.  With  great  labor  we 
got  off,  but  soon  missed  our  long  boat.  We  lost  the  tide  while 
looking  for  it,  and  so  lay  till  the  next  tide  set  in.  Having  then 
made  sail  with  a  pretty  strong  head  wind,  at  the  very  first  tack 
the  Dutch  horse  fell  overboard.  The  poor  devil  was  tied  with  a 
rope  about  the  neck  so  that  he  had  the  alternative  of  hanging  or 
drowning,  for  the  river  was  very  rough.     Fortunately  for  him  the 

G9 


540  Our  Book. 

rope  broke,  and  he  went  souse  into  the  water.  He  sunk  so  deep 
that  we  were  fifty  yards  from  liiin  when  he  came  up  and  he  im- 
mediately swam  down  the  river  with  all  force.  We  fitted  out 
our  long  boat  in  pursuit,  and  at  length  drove  him  ashore,  where  I 
hired  a  man  to  take  him  to  a  place  of  safety.  This  delayed  us 
another  tide.  The  rest  of  the  voyage  was  without  accident,  ex- 
cept as  you  may  picture  to  yourself  in  a  small  cabin  with  seven 
men,  seven  women  and  two  crying  children. 

Theodosia's  Marriage. 

It  may  seem  strange  that  Theodosia  should  not  have 
been  married  at  her  own  home,  the  beautiful  Richmond 
Hill,  which  was  one  of  the  most  delightful  places  in  New 
York.  The  reason  of  this  is  found  in  the  fact  that  the 
spring  of  1801  was  a  time  of  critical  importance  in  Burr's 
history  and  he  could  not  wait  for  an  elaborate  wedding. 
He  was  in  service  at  Albany  as  member  of  the  legislature, 
and  hence  his  daughter  left  her  home  and  went  thither  in 
order  to  be  married  under  her  father's  care. 

The  wedding  was  a  hurried  affair,  and  the  clergyman 

was  a  stranger  to  all  the  parties.     Theodosia  left  Alston 

in  a  despondent  frame  concerning  the  danger  of  a  winter 

journey  to  Albany.     The  following  is  her  last  letter  to 

him  before  marriage.     It  is  dated  Poughkeepsie,  January 

24,  1801  : 

Thus  far  have  we  advanced  on  this  terrible  journey  (from  which 
you  predicted  so  many  evils)  without  meeting  even  with  incon- 
venience. How  strange  that  Mr.  Alston  should  be  wrong!  Do 
not,  however,  pray  for  misfortune  to  befall  us,  that  your  character 
may  be  retrieved.  It  were  useless,  I  assure  you,  although  I  am 
very  sensible  how  anxious  you  must  now  be  to  inspire  me  with  all 
due  respect  and  reverence.  I  should  prefer  to  feel  it  in  some  other 
way.  We  shall  go  hence  to  Albany  in  a  sleigh,  and  hope  to  ar- 
rive on  Sunday  evening,  that  we  may  be  settled  on  Tliursday. 
Adieu,     Health  and  happiness. 

Theodosia. 

The  word  settled^  which  Theodosia  italicised,  refers  to 
their  expected  wedding,  which  took  place  on  the  7th  of 
February.  While  the  wedding  was  under  way  in  Albany, 
Burr's  friends  in  Washington  were  preparing  to  urge  his 


Aakon  Burr.  547 

claims  for  the  presidency.  His  political  lieutenant  and 
manager  was  Samuel  Smith,  of  New  Jersey,  who  wielded 
great  influence.  Three  days  after  Theodosia  had  become 
Mrs.  Joseph  Alston,  the  ballotings  in  congress  began,  and 
amid  these  exciting  expectations  the  married  pair  started 
ior  Charleston. 

Burr  followed  them,  and  they  met  in  Washington.  It 
was  their  only  happy  reunion  and  was  soon  to  be  followed 
by  misfortune  and  even  misery.  Immediately  after  the 
inauguration  the  Alstons  went  south,  and  on  the  8th  of 
March,  Burr  wrote  thus  to  Theodosia:  "  Your  letter  as- 
sured me  of  your  safety  and  for  a  moment  consoled  me 
for  your  absence.  The  only  consolation,  however,  is  the 
belief  that  you  will  be  happy  and  the  certainty  that  we 
shall  often  meet." 

Three  days  afterward  he  wrote  thus:  "  Let  us  think 
of  the  expected  meeting,  and  not  of  the  separation.  God 
bless  thee  ever ! "  Two  weeks  after  the  inauguration 
Burr  returned  to  New  York  and  the  following  extract 
from  his  first  letter  to  Theodosia  gives  a  painful  view  of 
a  desolation  for  which  even  the  vice-presidency  could  not 
compensate.  "  I  approached  Richmond  Hill  as  I  would 
approach  the  sepulchre  of  all  my  friends  —  dreary,  soli- 
tary, comfortless.     It  was  no  longer  home !  " 

Theodosia  revisited  her  father  at  Richmond  Hill  two 
years  afterward  and  then  returned  south.  It  was  her  last 
visit  to  New  York,  and  when  she  next  met  her  father  he 
was  a  fugitive  from  justice  and  was  execrated  as  the  mur- 
derer of  Hamilton.  After  that  painful  meeting  they 
parted  and  never  met  again.  What  a  sad  disappointment 
to  those  paternal  expectations  of  happy  days ! 

Proposed  tribute  to  Theodosia. 
Burr's  sole  affection  was  centered  upon  his  daughter, 
who  was  at  that  time  the  most  brilliant  yonng  woman  in 


648  Our  Book. 

America,  and  John  Davis,  the  English  traveler,  who  was 

then  in  this  city,  thns  refers  to  lier  accomplishments : 

Mr.  Burr  introduced  me  to  his  daughter,  whom  he  has  educated 
with  uncommon  care.  She  is  elegant  without  ostentation,  and 
learned  without  pedantry.  She  dances  with  more  grace  than  any 
other  lady  in  New  York,  and  speaks  French  and  Italian  with 
facility  —  is  perfectly  conversant  with  tiie  writers  of  the  Augustan 
age,  and  is  not  unacquainted  witli  tlie  "  father  of  poetry."  Mar- 
tel  (a  Frenclunan)  has  dedicated  to  her  a  volume  of  his  pro- 
ductions with  the  Horatian  epithet  of  "  dulce  decus." 

At  the  time  the  above  was  written  Theodosia  was  on 
the  point  of  that  ill-starred  union  which  removed  her 
from  the  city  she  loved,  and  separated  her  from  an  idol- 
ized father,  and  it  was  to  meet  him  after  a  long,  pro- 
tracted absence  that  she  sailed  from  Charleston  in  a  pilot- 
boat,  which  was  never  heard  of  after  leaving  port.  I 
would  now  suggest  to  the  ladies  the  dutj'  of  erecting  a 
suitable  monument  to  Theodosia,  as  the  first  New  York 
woman  who  commanded  the  admiration  of  visitors  from 
the  old  world,  and  whose  fate  seems  the  more  painful 
when  contrasted  with  her  brilliant  gifts  and  finished  ac- 
complishments. I  am  well  assured  that  the  best  location 
in  Trinity  burial  ground  could  be  obtained  for  this  purpose? 
but  a  statue  in  Central   park  would  be  more  appropriate. 

Macreadt's  Description. 

The  following  extract  is  from  Macready's  journal  to 

show  the  impression  the  duellist  made  in  the  tragedian  : 

October,  1826,  visited  city  hall  and  as  we  passed  through  the 
vaulted  passage  underneath,  a  solitary  figure  of  the  middle  size 
dressed  in  a  light  gray  colored  suit,  wliich  with  his  pale  com- 
plexion gave  him  in  his  loneliness  somewhat  of  a  ghostly  appear- 
ance. When  we  had  passed  him,  one  of  my  friends  asked  me  if  I 
knew  him.  On  my  replying  in  the  negative  he  told  me  he  was 
Col.  Burr,  who  had  shot  Hamilton,  and  liad  been  under  prosecu- 
tion for  higli  treason.  He  looked  like  the  mysterious  shadow  of 
unrepented  evil,  and  once  seen  the  vision  was  not  to  be  forgotten. 

Keader,  I  have  often  paced  that  vaulted  passage,  and 

as  I  recall  its  dim  light,  I  can  well  believe  that  such  a 


Aakon  Cukk.  549 

ficeno  was  one  not  easily  forgotten.  What  a  contrast  is 
found  in  the  sketch  which  Jolm  Davis  penned  a  quarter 
century  previously.  Davis  came  from  London  and  had 
translated  Bonaj)arte's  Italian  Campaign  which  Caritat  pub- 
lished, and  it  gave  the  translator  immediate  prominence. 

Davis'    Picture. 

My  translation  introduced  me  to  the  acquaintance  of  some  dis- 
tinguished characters  in  New  York,  and  among  others  that  caressed 
me  was  the  celebrated  Colonel  Burr,  who  was  in  the  late  election 
(1800)  chosen  for  tlie  office  of  Vice-President. 

To  a  genius  of  singular  perspicacity,  Mr.  Burr  joins  the  most 
bland  and  conciliating  manner.  With  a  versatility  of  powers,  of 
which,  perhaps,  America  furnishes  no  other  example,  lie  is  capa- 
ble of  yielding  an  undivided  attention  to  a  single  object  of  pur- 
suit. Hence,  we  find  him  at  the  close  of  the  Revolutionary  war, 
in  which  he  took  a  very  honorable  part,  practicing  the  law  with 
unrivalled  brilliancy  and  success. 

For  a  short  period  Mr.  Burr  acted  as  Attorney  General  to  the 
State;  but  his  professional  reputation,  already  at  the  acme  of 
splendour,  could  derive  no  new  lustre  from  the  office. 

Such  are  the  outlines  of  the  character  of  the  man  who,  culti- 
vating literature  himself,  loved  to  encourage  it  in  others;  and 
who,  with  a  condescension  little  known  to  patrons,  sought  out  my 
obscure  lodgings  in  a  populous  city,  and  invited  me  to  his  house. 

I  found  Mr.  Burr  at  breakfast,  reading  my  translation  over  his 
coffee.  He  received  me  with  that  urbanity  which,  while  it  pre- 
cludes familiarity,  banishes  restraint;  and  discovered  by  his  con- 
versation, that  he  was  not  less  skilled  inelegant  literature,  than  in 
the  science  of  graciousness  and  attraction. 

The  above  sketch  shows  Bnrr  under  the  most  favor- 
able colors.  As  Davis  M-as  a  member  of  the  press,  Burr 
knew  the  importance  of  securing  his  friendship,  and  he 
probably  exerted  his  full  power  of  fascination.  Davis 
perhaps,  would  have  been  surprised' had  he  been  informed 
that  Washington  had  always  disliked  this  wonderf til  man, 
and  had  refused  to  appoint  him  to  a  foreign  embassy  al- 
though this  was  urged  by  strong  political  influence. 

Strange  Combination. 
The  correspondence  from  which  I  make  the  following 
extracts  is  so  unique,  that  it  certainly  commands  attention. 


550  Our  Book. 

The  italics  that  occur  are  copied.  By  way  of  preface,  1 
would  state  that  Burr's  first  wife  was  the  widow  Theodosia 
Prevost.  That  a  brillant  young  colonel  in  the  Continental 
army,  whose  mastery  over  the  sex  was  even  then  well 
known,  should  be  the  conquest  of  a  widow  ten  years  his 
senior  certainly  seems  remarkable.  Hence  we  may  infer 
that  there  must  have  been  something  peculiarly  fascinat- 
ing in  the  woman  who  could  carry  off  such  a  prize. 

Of  the  courtship  no  details  are  given,  and  the  few 
facts  which  are  known  may  thus  be  briefly  told.  A 
French  family  named  De  Vinne  lived  in  New  Jersey, 
near  the  New  York  line,  prior  to  the  Revolution.  One 
of  the  number  was  the  wife  of  Captain  Prevost,  a  British 
officer,  who  had  been  ordered  to  the  West  Indies,  where 
he  died,  leaving  his  widow  burdened  with  two  sons. 

The  De  Vinnes  were  tories,  and  a  brother  of  the  widow 
Prevost,  while  fighting  for  the  crown,  had  been  taken 
prisoner  by  the  Continental  troops.  Hence  the  De 
Vinnes  were  suspected  and  placed  under  surveillance. 
They,  however,  interested  the  American  ofEcers  by  their 
elegant  manners,  and  at  last  tlieir  house  became  highly 
attractive.  As  the  British  power  waned  and  suspicion 
gave  place  to  friendship,  Burr  became  a  frequent  visitor, 
and  before  the  close  of  hostilities  he  was  under  matrimo- 
nial engagement  with  the  brilliant  and  fascinating  widow. 
They  had  been  acquainted  two  years,  and  occasionally 
when  Burr  was  ill  he  found  the  value  of  the  ministrations 
he  received  at  the  hand  of  his  betrothed.  These  facts 
may  explain  the  facility  with  wliich  the  discrepancy  in 
years  was  overcome. 

Burr's  first  Marriage. 
The  wedding  took  place  on  the  2d  of  July,  1782,  after 
which  Burr  proceeded  to  Albany,  where  he  was  admitted 
to  the  bar.    He  then  returned  for  his  wife,  and  the  newly- 


Aaron  Burr.  551 

wedded  pair  began  domestic  life.  He  lived  near  what  is 
DOW  the  corner  of  State  street  and  Broadway,  while 
Hamilton,  who  was  brother-in-law  to  the  Patroon,  lived 
near  the  Manor  house. 

These  men,  however,  sought  a  wider  field  than  Albany, 
and  Burr  removed  to  New  York  city  as  soon  as  peace  was 
declared.  Theodosia,  who  became  tlie  most  distinguished 
woman  ever  born  in  Albany,  was  but  an  infant  when  her 
parents  took  up  their  abode  in  Nassau  street,  opposite 
the  site  of  the  new  Mutual  Life  building.  In  the  first 
New  York  directory  (printed  in  1786),  we  find  "  Aaron 
Burr,  Attorney  at  Law,  10  Little  Queen  street"  (our 
present  Cedar  street),  and  hence  it  is  evident  that  tlie 
ofiice  and  dwelling  were  in  close  propinquity.  These 
were  Burr's  best  days,  for  he  had  not  become  embittered 
by  politics,  and  the  little  Theodosia  was  the  charm  of  his 
home.  Tradition  says  that  she  was  unusually  bright  and 
even  precocious,  and  it  is  evident  that  the  promise  of 
early  life  was  fully  kept  in  the  years  of  maturity. 

Burr  soon  became  popular  as  a  real  estate  lawyer,  and 
he  also  became  a  land  speculator  of  unusual  breadth  and 
activity.  During  the  twenty  years  of  his  New  York  life, 
preceding  the  famous  duel,  he  made  twenty-eight  purchases 
and  sixty  sales,  all  of  which  may  be  found  on  the  records  of 
the  registry  office.  This  was  certainly  an  extensive  traffic 
for  a  man  who  began  without  a  dollar,  and  who  was  absent 
so  large  a  part  of  the  time  on  public  business.  As  a  land 
operator  his  attention  was  attracted  by  Richmond  Hill, 
with  which  his  name  will  always  be  connected. 

Buys  Richmond  Hill. 

It  was  natural  that  the  father  who  idolized  his  daughter 
should  make  every  effort  to  obtain  a  healthy  home,  and 
Richmond  Hill  w^as  the  finest  suburban  establishment  then 


552  OuK  Book. 

in  the  market.  It  was  built  by  Paymaster  Mortier  of  the 
British  army,  a  few  years  previous  to  the  devolution,  and 
was  named  after  tliat  beautiful  town  which  graces  tlie 
Thames.  During  Washington's  military  occupation  of 
New  York,  he  made  Kichmoud  Elill  his  head -quarters,  and 
on  the  establishment  of  our  present  government  it  was 
occupied  by  John  Adams,  who  then  held  the  vice-presi- 
dency. Mrs.  Adams  speaks  of  the  beautiful  view  of  the 
Hudson  which  its  piazza  afforded,  and  it  had  many  attrac- 
tions to  any  man  of  taste.  In  the  latter  part  of  17'JO 
Adauis  removed  to  Philadelphia,  which  then  became  the 
seat  of  National  government,  and  Burr  immediately  suc- 
ceeded him  as  tenant. 

The  distance  to  Wall  street  was  little  more  than  a  mile, 
and  this  spacious  and  storied  mansion  was  a  beautiful  and 
healthy  home  for  Mrs.  Burr  and  her  three  children.  Burr 
himself  was  away  much  of  the  time.  lie  had  taught 
Theodosia  to  correspond  with  him,  and  her  happiest  hours 
were  passed  at  Kichmond  Hill.  The  only  shadow,  indeed, 
upon  her  life  was  the  failing  health  of  her  mother.  The 
latter  was  an  invalid  when  they  moved  into  their  rural 
abode,  and  soon  afterward  became  seriously  ill.  Burr 
was  then  a  senator  at  Philadelphia,  and  Theodosia  was 
obliged  to  take  care  of  her  mother,  who  died  in  May, 
1794,  being  then  in  her  forty-ninth  year.  Mrs.  Burr  had 
many  virtues,  but  tradition  gives  no  religious  element  to 
any  of  the  family.  Burr  was  an  admirer  of  Rousseau, 
and  it  is  probable  that  his  wife  held  similar  views.  We 
find  her  death  tluis  mentioned  in  Greenleaf's  New  York 
Journal  and  Patriotic  Register : 

Died  in  this  city  on  the  18th  inst.,  after  a  long  indisposition, 
Mrs.  Theodosia  Burr,  consort  of  the  Honorable  Aaron  Burr,  sena- 
tor in  congress  from  this  State. 

It  may  be  added  as  a  peculiar  feature  in  domestic  liis- 


Aaron  Bdrr.  553 

torj  that  no  one  knows  where  Mrs.  Burr  was  buried.  No 
monument  has  ever  been  found,  and  hence  it  may  be  infer- 
red that  none  was  erected.  The  only  explanation  for  such 
neglect  is  found  in  the  superficiality  of  Burr's  character. 
He  had  no  depth  of  sentiment,  and  his  attachments,  with 
the  sole  exception  of  paternal  love,  were  shallow  and 
evanescent.  This  is  shown  by  a  comparison  of  his  case 
with  that  of  Theodosia's  husband.  How  deep  indeed  is 
the  lament  in  which  the  latter  expresses  his  grief  ?  Burr's 
indifference  to  his  deceased  wife,  on  the  other  hand,  re- 
minds me  of  the  language  of  Enobarbus  to  Mark  Anthony: 
"  If  there  were  no  more  women  but  Fulvia,  then  had  the 
case  to  be  lamented.  This  grief  is  crowned  with  conso- 
lation—  and  indeed  the  tears  do  live  in  an  onion  that 
should  water  this  sorrow."  It  is  highly  probable  that  the 
interment  was  in  the  little  cemetery  which  is  so  near  the 
former  site  of  Richmond  Hill. 

Burr  had  been  a  kind  husband,  but  he  was  everywhere 
a  ladies'  man,  general  admirer  of  the  sex,  and  a  well-known 
libertine.  When  he  buried  his  wife  he  evidently  intended 
that  this  should  be  the  last  of  her.  In  none  of  his  pub- 
lished letters  is  there  an  allusion  to  her  memory,  his  cor- 
respondence with  Theodosia  being  no  exception.  One 
would  hardly  think  from  these  letters  that  the  girl  had 
ever  had  a  mother,  and  yet  Theodosia  was  then  only  thir- 
teen, and  such  a  bereavement  might  be  expected  to  have 
been  a  common  theme  between  parent  and  child.  Burr 
left  the  city  soon  after  the  funeral,  and  on  the  7th  of 
June,  1794,  just  twenty  days  after  his  wife's  death,  he 
thus  writes  Theodosia  from  Philadelphia : 

I  have  received,  my  dear  Theodosia,  two  little,  very  little  French 
letters.  The  last  left  you  tormented  with  headache  and  tooth- 
ache—  too  much  for  one  poor  little  girl  to  suffer  at  once,  I  am 
sure  you  had  taken  some  suddeu  cold.  You  must  fight  them  as 
well  as  you  can  till  I  come,  and  then  I  will  engage  to  keep  them 
70 


554  Our  Book. 

at  bay.  You  do  not  acknowledge  "the  receipt  of  a  long  letter 
which  I  wrote  you  on  the  road  the  night  after  I  left  New  York. 
I  hope  it  has  not  missed  you.  Whatever  you  translate  from  Ter- 
ence I  beg  you  to  have  copied  in  a  book  in  a  very  fair  hand. 

A.  B. 

Very  strange  that  a  father  could  tlius  write  a  daughter 
who  had  recently  met  so  severe  a  loss  with  no  allusion  to 
the  bereavement.  This,  however,  we  repeat,  was  a  pecu- 
liar feature  in  the  man.  None  of  his  letters  contain  any 
allusion  to  the  dead,  and  even  his  honored  ancestors  are 
never  mentioned.  He  appears  to  have  been  utterly 
devoid  of  that  sentiment  so  beautifully  suggested  by 
Gray: 

Even  from  the  tomb  the  voice  of  nature  cries, 
Even  in  our  ashes  live  their  wonted  fires. 

Theodosia  became  her  father's  housekeeper,  assisted  by 
servants,  and  having  a  companion  in  Natalie  La  Farge,  an 
orphan  to  whom  the  Burrs  had  given  a  home.  Three 
years  thus  elapsed,  and  we  infer  that  Burr  then  contem- 
plated marriage,  from  the  fact  that  he  at  that  time  took 
the  above-men tion(3d  long  lease  of  Richmond  Hill.  His 
star  had  continued  in  the  ascendant  until  he  became  promi- 
nent among  presidential  candidates.  Soon  afterward, 
however,  his  greatest  misfortunes  began.  Jose])h  Alston, 
of  South  Carolina,  had  won  the  affections  of  Theodosia, 
and  their  union  was  soon  to  be  consummated.  Burr  had 
by  that  time  failed  in  his  highest  expectations,  but  had 
reached  the  vice-presidency.  This  required  him  to  vacate 
his  seat  in  the  State  senate,  but  he  attended  the  winter 
session,  and  hence  Theodosia  and  Alston  went  to  Albany 
to  be  married.  The  ceremony  was  private,  and  after  it 
was  over  they  all  left  for  Washington,  where  Burr  was 
inducted  into  the  vice-presidency,  March  4,  1801.  Theo- 
dosia witnessed  the  impressive  and  gratifying  ceremony 
and  then  accompanied  her  husband  to  his  southern  home. 


BuKR's   FIKST    MlSFOKTUi^E.  555 

The  loss  of  a  noble  daughter's  society  was  i-eally  Burr's 
greatest  bereavement,  and  this  was  aggravated  by  dis- 
tance and  protracted  separation.  On  Theodosia's  part 
the  match  was  unfortunate  in  the  fact  that  a  woman  fitted 
to  adorn  the  highest  walks  of  society  was  thenceforth 
buried  in  plantation  life.  True,  she  married  the  gov- 
ernor of  South  Carolina,  but  when  his  ofiice  expired  he 
retired  to  his  plantation.  Charleston,  it  is  also  true,  was 
near  her  new  home,  but  even  Charleston  was  a  stupid 
place  compared  with  New  York.  Theodosia  also  suffered 
deeply  in  sympathy  with  her  father.  She  knew  well  his 
love  of  female  society,  which,  indeed,  rendered  him  de- 
pendent on  the  sex  for  his  sole  happiness.  She  knew 
how  lonely  his  home  would  be  without  her  presence,  and 
hence  she  encouraged  him  in  the  idea  of  a  second  mar- 
riage, which  then  became  next  in  importance  to  political 
aspirations.  Theodosia  was  then  only  twenty-one,  but 
she  had  tact  and  discretion,  which  rendered  her  an  admir- 
able adviser  in  questions  of  this  delicate  nature. 

Burr  had  for  several  years  made  his  daughter  a  confi- 
dent in  social  matters,  and  hence  he  wrote  her  freely  con- 
cerning his  matrimonial  expectations,  to  which  she  replied 
with  corresponding  freedom.  We  thus  have  the  strange 
spectacle  of  a  daughter  advising  her  father  in  wife-hunt- 
ing, and  both  criticising  and  suggesting,  as  the  situation 
might  require.  Burr's  position  as  vice-president  rendered 
him  highly  eligible  in  a  matrimonial  aspect,  but  many 
difficulties  arose,  some  of  which  are  suggeeted  in  their 
mutual  correspondence. 

Wife  Wanted. 
Soon  after  the  inauguration    congress  adjourned  and 
Burr  returned  to  New  York  deeply  conscious  of  his  loss. 
It  was   the  first  time  in  fifteen  years  he  had  entered  his 


556  Our  Book. 

house  without  the  welcome  of  that  affectionate  and  ad- 
mirable daughter.  Her  education  liad  been  his  delight. 
He  was  justly  proud  both  of  her  personal  appearance 
and  of  her  attainments,  and  she  was  no  doubt  the  mo!^t 
brilliant  woman  of  that  day.  But  she  was  gone.  How 
powerfully  is  this  idea  expressed  in  the  following  extract 
from  the  first  letter  which  Burr  wrote  Theodosia  after 
his  return :  "  I  approached  home  as  I  would  the  t^epulchre 
of  all  my  friends  —  dreary,  solitary,  comfortless." 

The  idea  of  matrimony  appears  to  have  then  become 
more  powerful  than  ever  and  he  began  to  canvass  the 
merits  of  different  objects  of  attraction.  Here  is  his  first 
utterance  to  Theodosia  on  the  subject,  dated  March  29, 
1801  ;  "  Among  others  I  saw  B.  lovely  and  interesting; 
but  adieu  to  that !  It  must  not,  cannot  be."  A  month 
afterward  (April  29,  1801)  he  wrote  as  f .  Hows  : 

I  liad  like  to  have  forgotten  to  say  a  word  in  reply  to  your  in- 
quiries of  matrimony,  which  would  seem  to  indicate  that  I  have 
no  plan  on  the  subject.  Sucli  is  tlie  fact.  You  are  or  were  my 
projector  in  this  line.  If  perchance  I  should  have  such  a  design 
it  will  be  executed  before  you  will  hear  of  it.  Yet  I  ought  not  to 
conceal  that  I  have  a  most  amiable  overture  from  a  lady  who  is 
always  employed  in  something  useful.  She  was,  as  you  know,  a 
few  months  past  engaged  to  another;  that  "  other  "  is  suspended, 
if  not  quite  dismissed.  If  I  should  meet  her  and  she  should  chal- 
lenge me  I  should  probably  strike  at  once. 

The  expression  "  who  is  always  employed  in  something 
useful "  is  intended  to  identify  the  person  to  whom  refer- 
ence has  been  made,  and  thus  avoid  designation  by  name. 
Burr  M^as  cautious  in  the  extreme  in  such  matters,  and 
never  was  known  to  commit  liimself  by  the  indiscreet  use 
of  pen  and  ink.  The  affair  thus  referred  to  must  have 
soon  reached  a  conclusion,  for  less  than  a  month  after- 
ward (May  29,  1801)  Burr  thus  writes  Theodosia  : 

But  for  a  reason  much  more  weighty  you  must  hasten.  II  faut. 
I  want  your  counsel  and  exertions  in  an  important  negotiation 
actually  commenced  —  but  not  advancing  —  wliich  will  probably 
be  stationary  till  your  arrival.     Quite  a  new  subject. 


Aakon  Bukr.  557 

We  thus  see  that  witliin  tlie  space  of  two  months  Burr 
mentions  three  ladies  as  having  attracted  his  matrimonial 
observation, 

Yaeious  Candidates. 

Theodosia,  however,  could  not  hasten.  It  was  then 
much  more  difficult  to  make  a  voyage  from  South  Caro- 
lina to  New  York  than  it  is  at  present  to  cross  the  Atlantic- 
Vessels  were  rare  and  the  voyage  was  dangerous.  Burr 
continued  to  flirt  among  the  ladies,  and  Theodosia  after- 
ward came  on  to  aid  her  father  in  his  connubial  pursuit. 
She  brought  her  little  boy  (Aaron  Burr  Alston),  and  the 
Lid  developed  rapidly,  and  as  soon  as  he  could  talk  desig- 
nated the  amatory  vice-president  as  "gamp,"  which  our 
readers  will  readily  understand  as  an  abbreviation  for 
grandpa. 

The  latter  now  seems  to  make  but  little  progress  in  the 
matrimonial  scheme,  which,  however,  he  still  cherished. 
He  was  fastidious  in  the  extreme,  and  then  the  conscious- 
ness of  the  vice  presidency  raised  his  aspirations  to  a  still 
higher  degree.  In  addition  it  may  be  said  that  he  was 
deeply  in  debt,  and  felt  that  his  position  warranted  expecta- 
tions of  wealth.  In  the  meantime  Theodosia  increased 
in  the  desire  that  her  father  should  have  a  companion,  and 
the  theme  was  the  continued  burden  of  their  correspon- 
dence. Passing  an  interval  of  nearly  three  years,  we  find 
him  thus  writing  under  date  of 

Washington,  December  27,  1803. —  Don't  scold  and  pout  and 
I  will  tell  you  how  I  visited  Annapolis,  but  what  I  did  and  who  I 
saw  are  other  matters.  Sometliing  too  about  Celeste  and  some- 
thing about  Madame  C,  whom  you  are  pleased  to  term  ''the  rich 
widow."     This,  I  think,  will  keep  you  quiet  for  a  week. 

In  less  than  that  time,  however,  Burr  reviews  the  list 
in  the  following  manner : 

Washington,  January  4,  1804. —  La  G.  is  much  better  than  1 
heard.      She  is  d'  line  c-erUiiac  age  and  well   looking,  considering 


588  Our  Book. 

the  circumstances ;  cheerful  and  good  tempered  —  the  best  of 
housewives  and,  as  it  is  thought^  willing.  Celeste  will  be  seen  on 
the  way  home;  but  that  La  R.  spoils  every  thing  in  Philadelphia, 
La  Planche  was  seen  on  our  way  hither.  All  right  and  pretty; 
improved  since  last  inspection ;  great  friend  to  La  R. 

Having  thus  called  the  roll  of  candidates,  Burr  was  pre- 
vented by  the  duties  of  the  winter  session  from  making 
any  progress.  As  soon  as  congress  adjourned,  however. 
be  thus  advised  Tlieodosia  of  his  movements : 

New  York,  February  8,  1804. —  I  left  Philadelphia  yesterday. 
How  could  I  omit  Celeste  and  her  sisters,  whom  I  saw  several 
times?  What  of  that?  To-morrow  I  am  to  see  La  G.  Pray  for 
me. 

A  week  afterward  Burr  briefly  announced  his  decision 
in  regard  to  one  of  the  candidates  in  the  following  em- 
phatic words : 

New  York,  February  16,  1804. —  La  G.  will  not  do. 

The  next  step  in  this  matrimonial  effort  is  found  in  a 
letter  dated  five  days  afterward,  which  shows  that  Burr 
was  returning  from  New  York  to  Washington ;  it  reads 
thus : 

Baltimore,  February  2,  1804. —  On  the  way  I  saw  Celeste  and 
renewed  with  some  levity  a  certain  subject.  It  excited  an  agita- 
tion perfectly  astonishing.  I  was  exceedingly  alarmed  and  per- 
plexed, having  imagined  the  denouement  of  last  summer  to  have 
been  conclusive.  Perhaps  there  is  some  restraint  of  which  I  am 
ignorant.  I  strongly  suspect  that  she  has  done  violence  to  her 
feelings.     Shall  I  investigate  this  point  ?     Humph !     Heigho. 

Soon  afterward  Burr  again  visited  New  York  and  writes 
Theodosia  thus : 

New  York,  March  28,  1804. — I  have  written  for  that  speech  to 
Philadelphia,  and  it  will  come  endorsed  by  the  fair  hand  of  Ce- 
leste —  truly  her  hand  and  arm  are  handsome.  I  did  not  see  her 
on  my  way  through  —  tant  mieux  (so  rmich  the  tetter') —  for  I  took 
great  affront.  Thence  ensued  explanations,  etc.  Nothing  like  a 
quarrel  to  advance  love.  La  Planche  I  did  see  twice  in  one  day. 
The  last  a  long,  very  long  visit.  Lovely  in  weeds.  La  G.,  of 
whom  you  inquire,  is  of  the  grave  age  of  forty-six. 


Celestj5  and  La  G .  559 

Burr  thus  resigned  himself  almost  impUcitly  to  Theo- 

dosia's  choice.     No  wonder  he  calls  her  ?na  (mj)  Minerva. 

After  an  interval  of  more  than  a  month  he  addresses  her 

as  follows : 

New  York,  May  1,  1804. —  How  limited  is  human  foresight! 
How  truly  are  we  the  sport  of  accident !  To-morrow  I  had  pro- 
posed to  visit  Celeste  and  now  alas! — 

What  the  nature  of  the  disappointment  was  is  not  men- 
tioned, but  we  learn  from  the  same  letter  that  although  a 
negative  decision  had  been  expressed  concerning  La  G., 
her  case  is  favorablj'  reconsidered,  and  the  reader  will 
notice  that  an  abatement  is  made  in  her  age.  Her  chances 
indeed  are  improving: 

La  G.  may  be  forty-one,  something  of  the  style  and  manners  of 
the  aunt  of  La  R.  Is  about  as  silly  —  talks  as  much  and  as  much 
nonsense;  is  certainly  good  tempered  and  cheerful;  rather  comely, 
abating  a  flat  chest.  Things  are  not  gone  to  extremity — but 
there  is  danger  —  poor  gampy !  It  does  not  appear  probable  that 
I  should  make  you  a  visit,  even  if  La  G.  should  not  prevent  it. 

It  appears  from  this  paternal  correspondence  that  Burr 

carefully  communicated  every  movement  to  Theodosia, 

and  the  next  step  is  as  follows  : 

New  York,  May  G,  1804. —  The  affair  of  La  G.  is  becoming 
serious.  After  due  reflection  this  does  appear  to  be  the  most  dis- 
creet thing  —  prudence,  cheerfulness  and  good  temper  are  ingre- 
dients of  importance.  I  will  offer  homage.  Are  you  content? 
Answer  quickly. 

The  course  of  true  love  appears,  in  this  case,  to  have 

its  traditional  difficulties,  for  in  little  more  than  the  lapse 

of  a  month  he  writes  thus  : 

June  11. —  Tlie  affair  of  La  G.  has  been  perfectly  stationary 
since  my  last  letter,  the  parties  not  having  met;  but  hearing  that 
La  G.  has  expressed  a  sort  of  surprise  approaching  vexation  at 
this  apathy  the  other  party  has  kindly  promised  an  interview  to- 
morrow.    Your  permission  or  dissent  is  impatiently  expected. 

Two  days  afterward  he  writes  again : 

June  13.  —  Another  interview  yesterday  with  La  G.  One  more 
would  be  fatal  and  final;  I  shall  seek  it  to-day,  after  which  I  will 
read  Moore's  fables.     You  impudence! 


560  Defeat  And  the  Duel. 

And  now  would  the  reader  credit  the  statement  that  at 
the  very  time  this  flippant  correspondence  was  going  on 
Burr  was  in  the  midst  of  a  tremendous  political  canvass? 
Although  then  vice  president,  he  saw  that  his  chance 
of  the  highest  oliice  was  gone.  Hence,  he  turned  to 
lesser  honors  and  became  candidate  for  governor  of  the 
State.  The  election  took  place  in  March,  Rnd  he  was  de- 
feated in  a  very  humiliating  manner.  Then  came  the 
purpose  to  challenge  Hamilton,  and  while  the  arrange- 
ments for  this  fatal  meeting  were  under  way  Burr  was 
gossiping  in  the  above-mentioned  manner  concerning  his 
favorites. 

After  Hamilton's  death  Burr  remained  for  two  weeks  or 
more  in  seclusion  at  Richmond  Hill,  being  undecided  as 
to  his  future  course.  He  heard  the  bells  toll  at  Ham- 
ilton's funeral  and  also  heard  the  booming  of  the  minute 
guns.  He  knew  that  public  opinion  was  intense  in  its 
condemnation  of  the  bloody  deed,  but  at  this  very  time 
he  consoles  himself  by  correspondence  with  Theodosia  of 
the  following  character: 

July  20,  1804. —  La  Gr.  has,  oa  a  recent  occasion,  manifested  a 
degree  of  sensibility  and  attachment  which  liave  their  influence 
on  gamp.  An  interview  is  expected  this  evening,  which,  if  it 
take  place,  will  terminate  in  something  definite. 

The  above  was  written  nine  days  after  the  duel  and 

shows  how  utterly  indifferent  Burr  was  to  that  crime 

which  was  thenceforth  to  give  him   fearful  distinction. 

It  may  be  presumed  that  the  interview  with  La  G.  was 

unsuccessful,  since  after  his  flight  to  Philadelphia  he  thus 

writes  to  Theodosia : 

August  2,  1804. —  Nothing  can  be  done  with  Celeste.  There  is 
a  strange  indecision  and  timidity  which  I  cannot  fathom. 

Burr  does  not  seem  conscious  of  the  fact  that  a  woman 
of  feeling  might  shrink  from  one  who  so  recently  had 
killed  a  man  in  cold  blood  ;  but  dueling  was  then  fash- 


Aaron  Burr.  561 

ionable,  and   if  Celeste  liad  any  such  "  timidity  "  it  no 
doubt  rapidly  wore  off. 

She  stood  first  among  the  ladies  who  then  engaged  his 
attention,  and  it  is  rare  that  lovers  come  so  near  a  satis- 
factory understanding  and  yet  fail  of  their  purpose. 
This  will  be  seen  in  the  episode  which  now  attracts  our 
attention.  Had  Burr  married  Celeste  it  would  have 
changed  his  destiny  in  an  important  manner.  He  would 
never  have  been  a  secessionist,  and  the  opprobrium  caused 
by  the  duel  would  have  soon  been  silenced. 

Contrast  in  Correspondence. 
While  Burr  was  thus  opening  his  love  matters  to  Theo- 
dosia,  his  letters  to  her  husband  were  of  a  highly  differ- 
ent character,  and  it  is  indeed  surprising  that  a  correspond- 
ence with  a  married  couple  should  display  such  a  contrast. 
He  wrote  thus  to  Alston  under  date  of  New  York,  July 
13: 

Gen.  Hamilton  died  yesterday.  All  unite  in  exciting  sympathy 
in  his  favor  and  indignation  against  his  antagonist.  I  purpose 
leaving  town,  but  know  not  whither. 

He  also  wrote  Alston  from  Philadelphia  thus : 

The  duel  has  driven  me  into  exile  from  New  York,  and  it  may 
be  perpetual.  A  coroner's  jury  is  now  sitting  for  the  fourth  time. 
They  are  determined  to  have  a  verdict  of  murder,  and  if  a  war- 
rant be  issued  and  I  be  taken  no  bail  will  be  allowed. 

During  this  critical  time  Burr  was  in  secret  communica- 
tion with  a  New  York  friend,  and  in  a  few  days  he  writes 
Alston  : 

The  jury  continued  to  sit  and  adjourn  for  fourteen  days.  My 
second  has  secreted  himself,  and  two  of  my  friends  are  in  jail  for 
refusing  to  testify  against  me.  How  long  this  persecution  may 
last  I  cannot  tell. 

Let  the  reader  contrast  the  above  with  the  following 

extract  from  a  letter  to  Theodosia,  dated  Philadelphia : 

August  11,  1804.  —If  any  male  friend  of  yours  should  be  dying 
of  ennui,  recommend  him  to  engage  in  a  duel  and  a  courtship  at 


562  OuK  Book. 

the  same  time.     Celeste  seems  more  pliaut.     I  do  believe   that 
eight  days  would  have  produced  some  grave  event. 

Here  is  another  extract  which  shows  Burr's  close  obser- 
vation of  that  sex  which  he  alternately  worshipped  and 
conquered : 

Poor  La  R.,  quite  pale  and  emaciated  — the  fruit  of  a  dissipa- 
tion. Celeste  as  heretofore,  abating  the  influence  of  time,  which 
is  too  visible  — courteous  even  to  flattery. 

Burr  paints  a  Picture. 

We  now  reach  that  highly  interesting  episode  to  which 

refei'ence  has  been   made,  in  which  Burr  describes  his 

courtship  to  his  deeply  interested  daughter.     The  title 

which  Burr  gave  it  is  "  Reuben  and   Celeste,"  and  it  is 

the  only  instance  in  the  records  of  social  life  in  which  a 

father   presents  himself   in  an   impersonal  manner  to  a 

daughter  and  depicts  the  varied  steps  in  a  love  affair  with 

as  much  coolness  as  though  he  had  been  a  mere  spectator. 

It  begins  with  a  letter  to  Theodosia,  dated 

Washington,  January  15,  1805.  —  At  5  in  the  morning  I  shall 
start  for  Philadelphia.  The  object  of  this  journey  has  been  inti- 
mated in  a  former  letter.  One  motive,  liowever,  lays  down  in  the 
bottom  of  my  heart.  You  will  conjecture,  and  rightly,  that  I 
mean  Celeste.  That  matter  shall  receive  its  final  decision.  But 
for  tliis  matter  the  journey  would  not  he  taken. 

Later  on  he  writes  thus  : 

On  Friday  I  saw  the  inamorata;  the  appearance  was  pleasing. 
There  was  something  pensive  and  interesting.  It  exceeded  my 
expectations,  but  it  was  a  visit  of  ceremony  and  passed  off  as 
such.  This  day  I  met  the  family  at  dinner.  My  attentions  were 
pointed  and  met  a  cheerful  return.  There  was  more  sprightliness 
tlian  before.  Le  pere  (the  father)  leaves  town  to-morrow  for 
eight  days,  and  I  am  now  meditating  whether  to  take  the  fatal 
step  to-morrow.  I  falter  and  hesitate,  which  you  know  is  not  the 
way.  I  tremble  at  the  success  I  desire.  You  will  not  know  my 
determination  till  Wednesday.  In  the  meantime  I  crave  your 
l^rayers. 

The  plot  thickens  and  I  do  not  find  it  possible  to  commimicate 
faithfully  the  details  without  hazarding  too  much  in  case  of  the 
loss  of  the  letter.  Something,  however,  may  be  said.  I  called  at 
the  house  this  morning.  Before  I  had  asked  for  any  one  in  particu- 
lar the  servant  bid  me  in,  and  in  a  few  minutes  inamorata  appeared. 


AakoN  Bukr.  563 

This  looked  like  a  secret  understanding  or  sympathy;  perhaps, 
Jiowever,  it  was  only  as  head  and  representative  of  the  family. 

For  some  minutes  she  led  the  conversation  and  did  it  with  grace 
and  sprightliness  and  with  admirable  good  sense.  I  made  several 
attempts  to  divert  to  other  subjects  —  subjects  which  might  have 
nearer  affinity  to  others,  but  unsuccessfully,  yet  whether  I  was 
foiled  through  art  or  accident,  I  could  not  discover. 

I  told  you  tlie  negotiation  siiould  not  be  long.  It  is  finished  — 
concluded  —  forever  abandoned  —  liber  sum*  Celeste  never  means 
to  marry;  "firmly  resolved."  "I  am  very  sorry  to  hear  it,  mad- 
ame;  had  promised  myself  great  happiness,  but  cannot  blame 
your  determination."  "  No,  certainly,  sir,  you  cannot,  for  I  recol- 
lect to  have  heard  you  express  surprise  that  a  woman  should 
marry,  and  you  gave  such  reasons  and  with  such  eloquence  as 
made  an  indelible  impression  on  my  mind.''  "  Have  you  any  com- 
mands in  town,  madame?  I  wish  you  a  good  morning."  End  of 
the  second  and  last  act.  The  interview  was  about  an  hour.  Celeste 
was  greatly  agitated;  behaved,  however,  with  great  propriety. 
The  parting  was  full  of  courtesy,  and  there  is  reason  to  hope  that 
there  will  be  no  hanging  or  drowning.     *     *     * 

Burr  is  Reuben. 

Just  as  I  sit  down  to  write  you  I  received  a  note  from  Celeste* 
advising  me  that  she  is  in  town  for  a  few  hours  and  will  be  happy 
to  see  me.  What  in  the  name  of  love  and  matrimony  can  this 
mean  ? 

Reuben  found  Celeste  with  a  visitor;  some  female  neighbor, 
who  sat  a  full  half  hour.  Celeste  betrayed  considerable  agitation 
when  Reuben  came  in,  and  tlie  most  palpable  impatience  at  the 
long  stay  of  the  lady  visitor.  At  length  the  latter  went  and  the 
parties  were  alone.  As  she  had  desired  the  interview  it  was  her 
place  to  speak  first. 

After  a  pause  and  several  efforts  she,  with  some  trepidation,  said 
that  she  feared  tlie  letter  she  had  written  had  not  been  expressed 
in  terms  sufficiently  polite  and  respectful;  she  had  wished  an 
opportunity  to  apologize,  and  here  she  stuck. 

Reuben  ouglit  in  mercy  and  in  politeness  to  have  taken  up  the 
conversation  ;  but  he,  expecting  no  such  thing,  was  taken  by  sur- 
prise and  remained  dumb,  with  a  kind  of  half  grin.  The  duett  at 
tiiis  moment  would  have  made  a  charming  subject  for  the  pencil 
of  Vanderlyn, 

Celeste  wa^s  profoundly  occupied  in  tearing  up  some  roses  which 
she  held  in  iier  hand,  and  Reuben  was  equally  industrious  in 
twirling  his  hat,  and  pinching  new  corners  and  angles  in  the 
brim. 

Mutual  Embarrassment. 

At  length  he  recovered  himself  so  far  as  to  gain  utterance.  He 
denied  plumply  that  there  was  want  of  respect  or  politeness  in  tlie 

*Liber  sum  —  I  am  free. 


564  OuE  Book. 

letter;  and  after  many  awkward  detours  and  lialf-finislied  sen- 
tences, he  said  he  would  return  the  letter,  and  would  consider  it  as 
cancelling  the  determination  which  it  contained,  and  proposed  to 
call  on  her  in  the  country  to-morrow  to  renew  his  suit.  This  was 
faintly  opposed.  He  changed  the  course  of  conversation  without 
insisting  on  a  formal  permission  or  refusal,  and  then  went  into  the 
subject  of  celibacy  and  matrimony  and  passed  an  hour  tete-a-tete. 

It  may  be  worth  noting  that  toward  the  close  of  conversation 
some  one  knocked,  and  that  she  went  out  and  ordered  the  servant 
to  deny  her,  from  which  it  may  be  inferred  that  she  was  not  dis- 
agreeably engaged,  and  that  she  did  not  wish  to  be  interi'upted. 

Now,  ma  Minerva,  is  not  this  a  very  ridiculous  posture  for  so 
grave  an  affair?  And  is  not  Reuben  in  a  way  to  be  coquetted  with 
his  eyes  open?  I  rather  think  he  erred  in  giving  to  the  apology 
of  Celeste  any  other  meaning  than  she  literally  expressed. 

On  the  other  hand,  if  she  did,  in  fact,  repent,  and  so  suddenly, 
it  would  seem  too  hard  and  fastidious  to  shut  tlie  door  against  all 
treaty  and  negotiation.  Upon  the  whole,  however,  I  conclude 
that  if  she  wished  for  any  kind  reason,  to  retreat,  slie  should  have 
gone  further  and  held  out  something  like  encouragement ;  in  short, 
have  met  him  half  way. 

It  may,  I  know,  be  replied,  that  her  habits  of  life  and  singular 
education,  forbid  any  thing  like  advance ;  and  that  a  lady  may 
always  presume  that  her  lover,  if  sincere,  will  seize  the  slightest 
ground  for  hope;  and  that,  in  the  logic  of  love,  an  equivocal  re- 
fusal is  assent. 

Certainly  this  last  interview  has  been  badly  managed  by  Reu- 
ben, but  I  have  not  yet  resolved  what  to  advise.  This  is  left  open 
till  morning,  when,  perhaps,  a  word  may  be  added. 

I  am  weary,  and  so  must  you  be,  of  tliis  story  of  Reuben  and 
Celeste.  It  is,  however,  closed,  and  you  will,  after  this  letter, 
hear  no  more  of  it.  Reuben  agreed  to  comport  himself  in  the 
manner  advised  in  my  last. 

Immediately  after  this  determination  Celeste  sent  a  servant  to 
inform  him  that  she  was  in  town!  He  called  to  see  her;  returned 
the  offensive  letter  and  told  her  that  as  he  understood  that  it  was 
tlie  manner  and  not  the  substance  of  the  letter  which  had  induced 
her  to  recall  it,  it  would  be  quite  unnecessary  for  her  to  take  the 
trouble  of  writing  another. 

They  talked  of  indifferent  matters;  Reuben,  quite  at  ease, 
played  the  man  of  the  world,  and,  in  my  opinion,  the  man  of  sense. 
Before  they  parted  her  face  was  flushed  like  a  full-blown  rose. 

She  begged  his  permission  to  destroy  the  letter,  which  was  cer- 
tainly a  very  useless  request,  considering  it  was  wholly  in  her 
power.  During  the  interview,  Celeste,  having  no  roses  to  occupy 
her  hands,  twirled  off  two  corners  of  a  pocket  handkerchief. 

Theodosia's  Reply. 
To  this  long  and  interesting  love  affair  Theodosia  made 
the  following  replj  : 


Aakon  BuRit.  505 

As  to  Celeste,  voila  mon-opinion.  She  meant  from  the  begin 
niug  to  say  the  awful  word  yes;  but  not  choosing  to  say  it  imme- 
diately, she  tells  you  tliat  you  had  furnished  her  with  arguments 
against  matrimony,  wliich  in  French  means  "Please,  sir,  to  per- 
suade me  out  of  tliera  again." 

But  you  took  it  as  a  plump  refusal  and  walked  off.  She  called 
you  back.  What  more  could  she  do?  I  would  have  seen  you  to 
Japan  before  I  would  have  done  as  much. 

I  still,  however,  like  your  plan.  My  opinion  is  not,  perhaps, 
well  founded,  and  it  is  best  to  be  on  the  safe  side.  If  she  is  de- 
termined to  be  kind,  she  will  find  out  a  way  of  expressing  it,  or 
she  is  not  worth  having.  I  am  quite  pleased  with  her,  and  am 
waiting  the  arrival  of  the  mail  with  the  utmost  im^iatience. 

Close  of  matrimonial  Schemes. 

The  reader  will  not  be  surprised  at  Theodosia's  deep 
interest  in  this  matter  —  but  it  closes  abruptly  in  the  fol- 
lowing extract  from  a  letter  addressed  to  her  and    dated 

Washington,  January  28,  1805. —  The  affair  of  Celeste  is  for- 
ever closed  —  so  there  is  one  trouble  off  my  liands. 

True  enough  !  "  the  affair  of  Celeste  was  forever  closed," 
but  the  other  matrimonial  schemes  shared  the  same  fate. 
Burr's  pursuit  of  a  wife  gave  way  to  the  fascinating 
dream  of  southern  empire,  which  at  the  time  promised  a 
new  and  grander  object  to  the  blighted  politician.  The 
public  is  too  well  acquainted  with  the  facts  in  the  case  to 
require  their  repetition.  The  failure  of  the  southern 
scheme  was  followed  by  Burr's  departure  to  Europe  fur 
the  purpose  of  prosecuting  other  ambitious  plans,  each  of 
which  proved  a  failure. 

Power  of  Woman. 

Wherever  he  went  the  sex  both  exerted  its  power  and 
also  felt  his  own.  Whether  in  England,  Germany  or 
France  the  result  was  the  same,  and  he  was  either  the 
slave  or  the  conqueror.  His  trifling  interviews  with 
women  claimed  record  in  his  diary,  and  thus  we  behold 
a  man  of  fiftv  four  who  has  sailed  three  thousand  miles 


566  Our  Book. 

to  pursue  a  grand  enterprise,  carefully  jotting  down  sneli 
petty  interviews  as  the  following : 

December  2,  1808. —  I  joined  him  iu  cursing  the  weather,  the 
streets,  and  the  coachman,  and  he  became  complacent  and  talka- 
tive. We  took  in  a  fat  man,  a  woman  still  fatter,  and  a  boy,  and 
afterward  a  very  pretty,  graceful,  arch-looking  girl  about  eighteen. 
At  the  first  change  of  horses  she  agreed  to  take  breakfast,  which 
we  did  tete-a-tete.  I  was  charmed  to  find  lier  all  animation, 
gayety  and  ease.  By  aid  of  giving  drink  to  the  coachman  our 
fellow-passengers  were  kept  three-quarters  of  an  hour  cooling  in 
the  coach. 

How  much  Burr  enjoyed  the  trick  imposed  on  the 
others  who  were  made  thus  to  suffer  delay  while  he  and 
his  "little  syren,"  as  he  calls  her,  were  enjoying  them- 
selves? 

Here  is  another  traveling  scene: 

December  24,  1808. —  We  started  four  inside.  The  only  object 
of  interest  was  a  pretty  little  brunette,  who  had  read  all  the  fash- 
ionable novels  and  i:)oets  and  seemed  to  know  everything. 

Again : 

Have  walked  through  the  market  and  among  two  hundred 
women,  not  one  comely. 

Here  is  another  sketch,  dated  West  Frieslaw,  1811 : 

A  very  good-tempered  Frierbette  was  passenger.  She  was  in 
full  costume  of  the  country ;  not  only  a  splendid  golden  oorgzat, 
but  earrings  and  large  pendants  of  the  same  —  also  gold  necklace, 
set  with  stones.  The  oorgzat  had  a  pink  fillet  to  keep  it  steady. 
The  pendant  gauze  was  one  foot  long  and  broidered  with  lace 
three  inches  broad.  She  told  me  her  head  dress  cost  1,520  francs 
—  the  pendant  might  serve  as  a  veil  and  the  whole  admitted  of 
much  coquettish  management. 

Again : 

Found  in  the  tracht  schluyt  a  Frenchman  and  iiis  pretty  wife  — 
also  a  tall,  comely  young  woman,  widow  of  a  Flemish  ofticer.  At- 
tached myself  to  the  latter,  who  spoke  the  French  fluently. 

London  Letters. 
Burr's  journal  contains  many  sitnilar  allusions,  and  he 
attached  such  importance  to  everything  pertaining  to  the 
sex  that  details  of  this  ridiculous  character  are  carefully 


Aaron  Burk.  567 

recorded.     It  also  contains  some  of  the  letters  which  he 

received  while  in  London,  and  which  he  preserved  among 

his  treasures  of  amatory  correspondence.     One  of  these 

is  as  follows : 

Surely  you  cannot  sail  with  this  wind,  and  though  I  began  with 
repentance  I  am  strongly  inclined  to  err  again.  Will  you  have 
your  profile  taken  and  left  with  me?  It  is  done  in  less  than  four 
minutes,  and  the  expense  is  a  mere  trifle. 

Another  is  as  follows  : 

March  20,  1812. —  You  are  certainly  very  teazing  to  have  so 
many  city  engagements.  You  are  perhaps  making  fine  speeches 
to  some  rich  belle  residing  tliere.  As  to  leaving  this  country,  you 
will  not  have  it  in  your  power  to  accomplish  that  design  with  as 
much  ease  as  you  speak  of,  and  I  am  selfish  enough  to  hope  that 
you  may  be  detained  some  little  time. 

True  enough  Burr  did  find  it  difficult  to  get  away  from 
England,  as  the  last  international  war  was  then  imminent ; 
but  how  strange  it  seems  that  this  should  be  the  farewell 
correspondence  addressed  to  a  man  of  fifty-seven,  an  ex- 
vice  president  of  the  United  States. 

Burr's  Return. 

Burr's  return  and  the  loss  of  Theodosia  are  too  well 
known  to  require  more  than  this  passing  reference.  lie 
landed  under  an  assumed  name  (in  order  to  escape  arrest 
for  debt)  in  the  summer  of  1S12,  just  previous  to  the  dec- 
laration of  war  against  Great  Britain,  and  as  soon  as  Theo- 
dosia learned  of  his  arrival  she  sailed  from  Charleston  in 
the  pilot-boat  Patriot,  which  was  never  heard  from.  How 
great  a  blow  her  death  was  to  Burr  can  only  be  known 
by  those  who  have  shared  his  fearful  experience. 

One  of  the  most  remarkable  features  in  this  painful 
episode  was  the  transmission  of  her  trunk  to  her  father. 
It  had  been  her  request  that  her  husband  should  open  it, 
but  this  he  never  could  do,  and  after  his  death  it  was  for- 
warded as  above  mentioned.  Wiien  opened  it  was  found 
to  contain   a  number  of  articles  to  be  given  as  farewell 


56S  Our  Book. 

presents  and  also  a  letter  to  her  husband,  written  in  view 
of  approaching  death,  and  hence  of  a  very  painful  char- 
acter. 

Burr  bore  up  under  this  blow  with  his  usual  stoicism 
and,  deeply  as  he  felt  the  bereavement,  he  rarely  men- 
tioned even  the  name  of  his  lost  daughter. 

Madame  Jumel. 

The  power  of  woman  still  held  him,  and  he  also  retained 
his  power  over  the  sex  amid  the  frosts  of  age.  He  did 
not  abandon  his  matrimonial  expectations,  which  were 
eventually  consummated  just  one  half  century  after  his 
union  with  Madame  Prevost.  This  fact  brings  up  the 
name  of  Stephen  Jumel,  an  enterprising  French  merchant, 
whose  name  first  appeared  in  the  iTew  Tork  directory  in 
1797.  About  the  same  time  Eliza  Bowen,  a  fascinating 
young  woman,  came  from  Providence  and  eventually  be- 
came his  wife.  Jumel  njade  money  rapidly,  and  in  1810 
he  bought  what  was  then  called  the  Col.  Morris  estate, 
ten  miles  from  the  city  hall,  for  $10,000. 

It  included  a  stately  mansion,  built  in  the  same  style 
with  Richmond  Hill,  and  130  acres  of  land,  which  are 
now  worth  a  round  million.  The  Jumels  afterward  went 
to  Paris,  where  they  lived  in  gay  and  elegant  style.  They 
were  there  during  the  last  struggle  of  the  first  Napoleon, 
and  after  his  downfall,  when  the  furniture  of  the  Tuiller- 
ies  was  sold  at  auction,  they  purchased  many  articles 
which  still  adorn  the  ancient  mansion.  After  a  few  years 
of  foreign  life  tliey  returned  and  occupied  their  estate  at 
Washington  Heights,  and  Mrs.  Jumel  induced  her  hus- 
band to  give  her  a  deed  of  the  property. 

Theodosia's  Opinion. 
In  1832  Stephen  Jumel  died  and  his  wife  was  the  rich- 
est  widow  in  New   York.     She  retained  at  fifty-seven 


Aaron  Bukk.  660 

much  of  the  beauty  and  fascination  wliich  marked  lier 
early  days,  and  Burr  determined  to  make  a  final  effort  for 
a  bride.  lie  was  poor  and  now  sought  to  marry  for  a 
home.  How  strange  it  seems  that  he  should  seek  one  in 
an  estate  which  had  attracted  the  attention  of  both  him- 
self and  daughter  thirty  years  previously. 

Reverting  to  that  mutual  correspondence  which  has 
been  so  freely  quoted,  we  find  Burr  writing  to  Theodosia 
under  date  of  New  York,  November  23,  1803: 

Roger  Morris's  place,  the  large,  liaudsome  house  on  the  heights, 
is  for  sale.  I  cau  get  it  for  Riclimond  Hill  and  four  acres.  Shall 
I  exchange?  If  I  leave  Richmond  Hill,  however,  had  I  not  better 
buy  in  town,  so  tliat  you, may  liave  a  resting  place  there?  Would 
you  think  it,  I  have  been  coquetted  by  a  rich  widow  and  really 
had  some  thought  of  yielding. 

To   this  Theodosia  wrote  as  follows  :  ♦ 

December  10,  1803.  — Your  letter  of  November  10  was  received 
and  the  exchange  has  employed  my  thoughts  ever  since.  Rich- 
mond Hill  has  lost  many  of  its  beauties  and  is  daily  losing  more. 
If  you  sell  part  you  deprive  it  of  every  beauty  save  the  mere 
view.  Morris  has  the  most  commanding  view  on  the  island.  How 
many  delightful  walks  can  be  made  on  130  acres?  How  much 
taste  displayed?  In  ten  or  twenty  years  hence  130  acres  on  New 
York  island  will  be  a  principality,  and  there  is  something  stylish 
and  elegaut  in  your  having  a  handsome  country  seat.  Upon  the 
whole  I  vote  for  the  Morris  place. 

Wife  found  at  Last. 

Burr,  however,  lost  the  opportunity  thus  opened,  but 
he  now  determined  to  acquire  a  home  in  the  place  that 
Theodosia  admired,  through  that  very  method  which  once 
occupied  their  mutual  thoughts.  Here,  indeed,  at  last  he 
found  his  second  wife.  Madame  Jumel  had  consulted 
him  professionally  and  this  led  him  to  call  at  the  grand 
old  mansion,  whose  grounds  had  been  improved  in  the 
very  manner  suggested  by  Tlieodosia.  Walks  had  been 
laid  out  and  a  general  display  of  taste  had  added  to  the 
extraordinary  beauties  of  nature. 

Burr's  former  exj^erience  in  courtship  seemed  to  pre- 
71 


570  OuE  Book. 

pare  liitn  for  the  present  important  occasion.  The  once 
fascinating  Eliza  Bowen  retained  much  of  her  former  co- 
quetry and  the  matrimonial  offer  was  received  with  a 
negative.  Bun-  remembered  the  lessons  taught  by  Celeste 
—  that  a  woman's  refusal  may  be  only  meant  to  arouse 
her  lover  to  stronger  persuasions.  His  reply  was  that  he 
would  bring  out  a  clergyman,  and  so  he  did.  This 
showed  great  nerve  in  a  lover  of  seventy-five,  but  even  at 
that  age  Burr  retained  enough  of  his  former  character  to 
be  still  called  a  ladies'  man. 

The  next  time  he  appeared  at  the  Jumel  house  he  was 
accompanied  by  the  Rev.  Mr.  Bogart,  who  was  really 
older  than  himself.  Tiie  clergyman  had  exercised  his 
^ffice  in  early  days  in  New  Jersey,  and  indeed  had  offi- 
ciated at  the  wedding  of  Aaron  Burr  and  Theodosia  Pre- 
vost  just  a  half  century  before.  The  madame  yielded  to 
the  summons  and  the  ceremony  was  performed  in  the 
west  parlor  of  the  storied  mansion. 

BcRR  Divorced. 

The  result  is  so  generally  known  that  it  is  only  neces- 
sary to  make  a  brief  reference  to  a  few  prominent  facts. 
It  would  have  been  surprising  if  two  persons  who  had  be- 
come confirmed  in  their  peculiarities  by  long  life  should 
live  in  harmony,  but  this  case  was  aggravated  by  that 
high-toned  independence  which  marked  each  of  the  par- 
ties to  the  matrimonial  contract. 

Burr  wanted  money,  and  succeeded  in  getting  posses- 
sion of  a  small  part  of  his  bride's  wealth,  which  was 
either  spent  or  lost  in  speculation.  Difficulties  rapidly 
followed,  and  the  result  was  that  the  madame  cast  him 
off  and  began  an  action  for  divorce  on  the  ground  of  con- 
jugal infidelity.  Burr  allowed  this  to  go  by  default,  and 
thenceforth  the  Jumel  house  was  closed  upon  him. 


Aakon  BuKii.  571 

The  annoyance  occasioned  by  this  affair,  added  to  the 
infirmities  of  age,  told  rapidly  upon  the  divorced  hus- 
band, and  his  system  soon  showed  signs  of  breaking 
down.  This  led  him  to  make  his  will,  for  tliough  he  had 
but  little  to  leave,  there  were  reasons  which  rendered  such 
an  instrument  higlily  important.  One  was  the  mass  of  love 
letters  which  had  accumulatedxluringalong  life,  in  which 
intrigue  formed  so  large  a  feature.  Burr  clung  to  these 
memorials  with  such  tenacity  that  he  could  not  see  them 
destroyed,  but  he  bequeathed  them  to  his  friend,  Matthew 
L.  Davis,  for  this  very  purpose,  which  was  duly  accom- 
plished. 

Another  important  object  was  provision  for  two  young 
daughters,  to  whom  he  bequeathed  all  that  his  estate 
might  eventually  yield.  This  will  is  dated  January  11, 
1835,  and  Burr  was  then  in  his  seventy-eighth  year.  The 
ages  of  these  daughters  is  carefully  specified,  and  could 
Theodosia  have  returned  to  life  she  would  (at  the  age  of 
fifty-three)  have  found  two  sisters,  the  one  six  and  the 
other  only  two. 

Closing-  Scenes. 
Burr  still  had  his  ofiice  open  for  business,  but  it  was 
evident  that  his  professional  life  was  past.  A  shattered 
old  man  occasionally  w^as  seen  in  the  streets,  but  even 
then  there  was  something  so  peculiar  in  his  manner  as  to 
attract  attention,  and  he  w^as  pointed  out  to  curious  in- 
quirers as  the  slayer  of  Hamilton.  His  friends  were  few, 
but  they  were  faithful;  one  of  these  was  Matthew  L. 
Davis,  afterward  his  biographer,  and  another  was  Judge 
Ogden  Edwards,  his  cousin.  The  latter  had  a  country 
seat  on  Staten  Island,  and  in  the  summer  of  1S36  he  in- 
vited his  ancient  kinsman  to  visit  him,  and  from  that 
visit  Burr  never  returned.     He  sank  in  extreme  debility, 


57^  OuE  Book. 

and  died  on  flie  14th  of  September,  being  then  four 
score. 

Madame  Jumel  survived  her  last  husband  thirty  years, 
and  when  her  eyes  closed  in  death  it  might  then  be  said 
that  "  last  of  all,  the  woman  died  also."  She  was  the  last 
link  that  connected  his  name  with  matrimonial  life.  Her 
age  was  ninety,  and  her  life  had  been  almost  as  mysteri- 
ous as  his  own. 

The  Jumel  house  is  now  the  sole  remaining  memorial 
of  Burr,  and  it  may  be  hoped  that  so  interesting  a  struc- 
ture will  long  be  preserved.  It  is  now  the  property  of 
Nelson  Chase  and  daughter,  Mrs.  Caryl,  who  purchased 
it  at  the  partition  sale. 

Having  referred  to  Burr's  will,  it  may  be  added  that 
its  probate  was  delayed  several  years,  the  reasons  being 
as  follows  :  At  the  time  of  his  death  it  was  supposed  that 
he  left  nothing  worthy  of  an  executor's  attention.  It 
was  afterward  discovered,  however,  that  he  had  at  an  early 
day  executed  several  leases  of  lots  on  the  Richmond  Hill 
property,  which  had  not  been  included  in  the  conveyance 
to  Astor.  As  these  leases  expired  the  privilege  of  re- 
newal became  valuable,  and  the  executor  therefore  pre- 
sented the  will  for  probate  in  December,  1841. 

One  of  the  two  children  died  early,  but  the  other  lived  to 
enjoy  the  benefit  of  the  will,  which  gave  her  at  least 
$20,000.  It  may  be  added  that  she  bore  a  striking  re- 
semblance to  her  father,  and  was  rather  proud  of  his 
name,  notwithstanding  the  bar  sinister  which  accompa- 
nied it.  She  married  and  removed  to  New  Jersey,  where 
she  died  recently,  leaving  a  highly  respectable  family. 

Their  Portraits. 
John  Yanderlyn,  though  once  a  popular  artist,  is  now 
only  remembered  by  his  portraits  of  Burr  and  Theodosia. 


Aaron  Bukr. 


573 


They  have  been  reproduced  in  every  variety  of  style,  the 
latest  being  the  engraving  of  the  former  in  the  American 
Magazine  of  History,  a  duplicate  of  which  appears  be- 
low. Burr  assisted  Yanderlyn  when  the  latter  was  strug- 
gling in  poverty  and  obscurity,  but  really  his  best  patron- 
age was  the  commission  to  paint  these  portraits,  which 
ensured  him  permanent  distinction.  They  ornamented 
Richmond  Hill  for  several  years,  and  then  passed  into  the 
possession  of  the  Edwards  fauiily,  where  they  are  still 
retained. 


Theodosia's  Trunk. 

I  have  previously  referred  to  the  trunk  left  by  Thco- 

dosia  to  her  husband,  which  he  never  opened,  and  wliich 

after  his  deatli  was  sent  to  Burr  —  who  on  examining  its 

contents  saw   that  it  was  a  farewell  task  —  undertaken 


574  Our  Book. 

duriug  feeble  health,  in  view  of  a  speedy  departure.  A 
number  of  small  presents  were  inscribed  with  the  names 
of  friends,  and  her  attendants  were  not  forgotten — but 
her  remembrance  above  all  was  for  her  husband  and  their 
mutual  son.  Little,  indeed,  did  this  unfortunate  woman 
imagine  that  the  latter  should  precede  her,  while  the 
former  was  so  soon  to  follow.  How  tender  is  this  part- 
ing appeal : 

To  you,  my  beloved,  I  leave  our  child ;  the  child  of  my  bosoms 
who  was  once  a  part  of  myself,  and  from  whom  I  shall  shortly  be 
separated  by  the  cold  grave.  You  love  him  now ;  henceforth  love 
him  for  me  also.  And  oh,  my  husband,  attend  to  this  last  prayer 
of  a  doting  mother.  Never,  never  listen  to  what  any  other  per- 
son tells  you  of  him.  Be  yourself  his  judge  on  all  occasions. 
He  has  faults;  see  them,  and  correct  them  yourself. 

Desist  not  an  instant  from  your  endeavors  to  secure  his  confi- 
dence. It  is  a  work  which  requires  as  much  uniformity  of  con- 
duct as  warmtli  of  affection  toward  him.  I  know,  my  beloved, 
that  you  can  perceive  what  is  right  on  this  subject  as  on  every 
other.  But  recollect,  these  are  the  last  words  I  can  ever  utter. 
It  will  tranquilize  my  last  moments  to  have  disburdened  myself 
of  them. 

I  fear  you  will  scarcely  be  able  to  read  this  scrawl,  but  I  feel 
hurried  and  agitated.  Death  is  not  welcome  to  me.  I  confess  it 
is  ever  dreaded.  You  have  made  me  too  fond  of  life.  Adieu, 
then,  thou  kind,  thou  tender  husband.  Adieu,  friend  of  my  heart. ' 
May  Heaven  prosper  you,  and  may  we  meet  hereafter.  Adieu ; 
perhaps  we  may  never  see  each  other  again  in  this  world. 

You  are  away ;  I  wished  to  hold  you  fast,  and  to  prevent  you 
from  going  tliis  morning.  But  He  who  is  wisdom  itself  ordains 
events;  we  must  submit  to  them.  Least  of  all  should  I  murmur. 
I,  on  wliom  so  many  blessings  have  been  showered  —  whose  days 
have  been  numbered  by  bounties  —  who  have  had  such  a  husband, 
such  a  cliild,  and  such  a  father. 

Oh,  pardon  me,  my  God,  if  I  regret  leaving  these.  I  resign 
myself.  Adieu,  once  more,  and  for  the  last  time,  my  beloved. 
Speak  of  me  often  to  our  son.  Let  him  love  the  memory  of  his 
mother,  and  let  him  know  how  he  was  loved  by  her.  Your  wife, 
your  fond  wife,  Theodosia. 

Let  my  father  see  my  son  sometimes.  Do  not  be  unkind  toward 
him  whom  I  have  loved  so  much,  I  beseech  you.  Burn  all  my 
papers  except  my  father's  letters,  which  I  beg  you  to  return  him. 

Adieu,  my  sweet  boy.  Love  your  father;  be  grateful  and  af- 
fectionate to  him  while  he  lives;  be  the  pride  of  his  meridian, 
tlie  support  of  his  departing  days.  Be  all  that  he  wishes;  for  he 
made  your  mother  happy.     Oli!  my  Heavenly  Father,  bless  them 


Aaron  Burr.  575 

both.     If  it  is  permitted,  I  will  hover  around  you,  and  guard  you, 
and  intercede  for  you. 

I  had  nearly  forgotten  to  say  that  I  charge  you  not  to  allow  me 
to  be  stripi^ed  and  washed,  as  is  usual.  I  am  pure  enough  thus  to 
return  to  dust.  Why,  tlien,  expose  my  person?  Pray  see  to  this. 
If  it  does  not  appear  contradictory  or  silly,  I  beg  to  be  kept  as 
long  as  possible  before  I  am  consigned  to  the  earth. 

Tlieodosia's  latest  request  was  granted.     Her  form  was 

never  subjected  to  those  indifferent  hands  which  so  often 

are  employed  in  preparing  the  dead  for  public  gaze,  and 

then  she  was  kept  from  the  touch  of  earth  — 

But  doth  suffer  a  sea  change 
Into  something  new  and  strange. 

More  Sorrow. 

Theodosia  however  recovered,  and  the  boy  died.  Burr 
indeed  had  but  recently  returned  from  England  when  he 
received  the  following  letter  from  Alston : 

A  few  miserable  weeks  since,  and  in  spite  of  all  the  embarrass- 
ments, the  troubles  and  disappointments  which  have  fallen  to  our 
lot  since  we  parted,  I  would  have  congratulated  you  on  your  re- 
turn in  the  language  of  happiness.  With  mj'  wife  on  one  side 
and  my  boy  on  the  other,  I  felt  myself  superior  to  depression. 
The  present  was  enjoyed,  the  future  was  anticipated  with  en- 
thusiasm. One  dreadful  blow  has  destroyed  us;  reduced  us  to  the 
veriest,  the  most  sublimated  wretchedness. 

That  boy,  on  whom  all  rested;  our  companion,  our  friend  —  he 
who  was  to  have  transmitted  down  the  mingled  blood  of  Theo- 
dosia and  myself  —  he  who  was  to  have  redeemed  all  your  glory, 
and  shed  new  lustre  upon  our  families  —  that  boy,  at  once  our 
happiness  and  our  pride,  is  taken  from  us — is  dead. 

We  saw  him  dead.  My  own  hand  surrendered  him  to  the  grave ; 
yet  we  are  alive.  But  it  is  past.  I  will  not  conceal  from  you  that 
life  is  a  burden,  which,  heavy  as  it  is,  we  shall  both  support,  if 
not  with  dignity,  at  least  with  decency  and  firmness.  Theodosia 
has  endured  all  that  a  human  being  could  endure;  but  her  admir- 
able mind  will  triumph.  She  supports  herself  in  a  manner  worthy 
of  your  daugliter. 

Here  is  the  mother's  heartbroken  utterance: 

There  is  no  more  joy  for  me.  The  world  is  a  blank.  I  have 
lost  my  boy.  My  cliild  is  gone  forever.  May  Heaven,  by  other 
blessings,  make  you  some  amends  for  the  noble  grandson  you  have 
lost!  Alas!  my  dear  father,  I  do  live,  but  how  does  it  happen? 
Uf  what  am  I  formed  that  I  live,  and  why?     Of  what  service  can 


576  Our  Book. 

I  be  in  this  world,  either  to  you  or  any  one  else,  with  a  body  re- 
duced to  premature  old  age,  and  a  mind  enfeebled  and  bewildered? 
Yet,  since  it  is  my  lot  to  live,  I  will  endeavor  to  fulfill  my  part, 
and  exert  myself  to  my  utmost,  though  this  life  must  henceforth 
be  to  me  a  bed  of  thorns.  Whichever  way  I  turn  the  same  anguish 
still  assails  me.  You  talk  of  consolation.  Ah!  you  know  not 
what  you  have  lost.  I  think  Omnipotence  could  give  me  no 
equivalent  for  my  boy ;  no,  none  —  none. 

Her  own  Departure. 

It  was  under  this  crushing  blow  that  Theodosia  sailed  for 

the  purpose  of  meeting  her  father,  who  waited  for  her  in 

vain ;  the  next  feature  in  this  harrowing  episode  being  the 

following  extract  from  Alston' s  letter  to  the  loved  and  lost : 

Another  mail,  and  still  no  letter!  I  hear  rumors  of  a  dreadful 
gale  since  you  left  —  the  state  of  my  mind  is  agony.  Let  no 
man,  wretched  as  he  may  be,  think  himself  beyond  the  reach  of 
another  blow.     I  shall  count  the  hours  until  the  next  mail. 

In  four  days  he  writes  again  : 

Wretched  and  heart-rending  forebodings  distract  me.  I  may 
no  longer  possess  a  wife,  yet  my  impatient  restlessness  addresses 
her  a  letter  I  To-morrow  is  three  weeks  since  we  parted.  Gra- 
cious God!  for  what  fate  am  I  reserved? 

In  a  short  time  Alston  thus  addressed  the  father: 

You  ask  me  to  relieve  your  suspense.  Alas !  it  is  to  you  that 
I  have  looked  for  similar  relief.  To-morrow  will  be  four  weeks 
since  I  parted  with  Theodosia,  since  which  not  one  line  has  been 
received.  My  mind  is  in  torture!  Not  one  word  of  vessel  or 
wife !  Sir,  when  I  turned  from  the  grave  of  my  son,  I  thought 
that  misfortune  could  have  no  severer  blow  for  me.  I  was  mis- 
taken.    Theodosia  is  either  captured  or  lost! 

After  six  months  of  correspondence  with  neighboring 

ports,  and  every  possible  search,  he  again  writes  : 

No  hope  is  left  us !  Without  this  victim  our  desolation  would 
have  been  incomplete.  You  may  well  observe,  sir,  that  you  feel 
severed  from  all  mankind.  She  was  the  last  tie  that  bound  us  to 
our  race.  I  have  been  to  the  apartment  where  her  clothing,  her 
books  and  the  playthings  of  my  boy  renewed  the  shock.  I  walked 
to  his  grave  —  the  plans  we  had  formed  rushed  into  my  mind. 
Where  was  that  bright-eyed  boy?  where  the  mother  I  had  cher- 
ished with  such  pride?  Grief,  sir,  made  me  stupid,  or  I  could  not 
have  borne  it. 

Alston  and  Burr  never  met  after  the  above  was  writ- 


Aaron  Burr.  577 

ten,  and  as  the  latter  only  corresponded  with  his  daughter 
all  but  formal  communication  was  mutually  dropped, 
and  Alston  soon  after  died. 

Burr's  Grave. 

Having  previously  mentioned  Burr's  death,  while  vis- 
iting his  cousin,  I  have  only  to  add  that  the  remains  were 
conveyed  for  interment  to  Princeton  and  received  mili- 
tary honors.  They  were  laid  next  to  the  graves  of  his 
parents  and  grand-parents,  in  the  most  honored  part  of 
the  old  cemetery.  His  father,  whose  name  he  bore,  was 
a  Presbyterian  clergyman,  and  was  for  a  short  time  presi- 
dent of  Princeton  college.  His  grand-father,  Jonathan 
Edwards,  was  also  president,  but  his  term  of  service  was 
very  brief.  In  the  midst  of  these  hallowed  relics  was 
laid  the  form  of  the  old  man  whose  hfe  presented  so 
painful  a  contrast  with  the  family  character. 

A  few  years  afterward  a  headstone  was  placed  there  by 
the  Edwards  family,  bearing  the  simple  inscription : 
"Aaron  Burr;  born  February  6,  1756;  Died  Septejnber 
14,  1836.  Colonel  in  the  Revolutionary  Army;  Vice- 
President,  1801-1 S05."  The  place  has  since  then  been 
haunted  by  relic  seekers,  who  chipped  the  headstone  to 
such  a  degree  that  an  iron  fence  was  erected  for  protec- 
tion. It  may  be  mentioned,  in  closing,  that  Colonel 
Burr's  family  was  separated  in  burial  to  an  almost  unpar- 
alleled degree.  His  first  wife's  grave  is  unknown  ;  the 
second  wife  (Madame  Jumel)  rests  all  alone  in  Trinity 
cemetery  ;  Theodosia  found  a  grave  in  the  ocean ;  Alston 
was  buried  near  Charleston,  but  the  spot  is  unknown,  and 
Burr's  grave  is  far  from  them  all. 

Princeton  Memories. 

The  origin  of  Princeton  college  (or  College  of  New 

Jersey)  is  clearly  identified  with  the  Burr  family.     The 
73 


578  Our  Book. 

first  Aaron  Bnrr  was  a  friend  of  the  missionary  Brain- 
erd,  wlio  suffered  such  injustice  from  Yale  that  it  awoke 
the  indignation  of  tlie  Kew  Jersey  clergy,  and  they  de- 
termined no  longer  to  depend  on  the  offending  college. 
Tliey  therefore  began  that  effort  which  gradually  became 
an  institution  of  the  iiighest  order.  This,  too,  led  to  the 
seminary,  which  has  also  reached  eminence. 

The  most  striking  feature  in  the  latter  was  the  Alex- 
ander family,  whose  genius  and  attainments  are  a  part  of 
church  history.  It  was  said  of  Archibald  Alexander  that 
"  he  was  a  giant  and  the  father  of  giants."  His  two  sons, 
James  and  Addison,  were  worthy  of  their  parentage,  and 


ARCHIBALD  ALEXANDER. 

it  is  very  gratifying  to  the  writer  to  have  heard  them  all 
in  the  pulpit.  They  now  rest  in  Princeton  cemetery,  and 
when  one  contemplates  the  Burrs,  the  Edwards  and  the 
Alexanders,  this  array  of  genius,  learning  and  piety  is  suffi- 
cient to  give  the  spot  rare  distinction  in  the  mortuary  record. 

Presbytery  and  Prelacy. 
While  speaking  of  Princeton,  I  need  hardly  add  that 
this  town  has  long  been  prominent  as  the  centre  of  Presby- 


Pkesbyteky  and  Prelacy.  579 

terian  strength.  The  distinction  once  claimed  by  tliis 
church  (and  also  its  boast)  was  the  equality  of  its  clergy, 
as  compared  with  those  churches  M'hich  held  various 
ranks  such  as  the  Roman  and  other  Episcopals.  The 
latter  are  called  '■'' jprelaticaV  by  Presbyterian  teachers, 
and  yet  it  now  is  evident  that  Presbyterianism  is  equally 
fond  of  prelatical  honors.  All  men  naturally  want  dis- 
tinction. Human  pride,  indeed,  will  not  be  satisfied  with- 
out it.  Hence  the  Presbyterian  clergy  are  often  craving 
honorary  titles,  such  as  D.  D.  and  LL.  D.,  and  their  boasted 
equality  is  really  a  thing  of  the  past.  While  objecting  to 
"  prelacy  "  in  name,  they  have  established  a  petty  prelacy 
of  their  own.     Even  the  clerk  of  the  General  Assembly 

modestly  advertises  himself  as  Rev. ,  D.  D,  LL.D. 

In  view  of  this  natural  desire  for  distinction,  would  it 
not  be  well  for  Princeton  and  other  seminaries  to  deco- 
rate each  of  their  graduates  with  a  D.  D.  %  How  pretty 
it  would  look !  Artemus  Ward,  in  one  of  his  sallies  of 
humor,  during  the  late  rebellion,  said,  that  if  he  "  were 
getting  uj)  an  army,  it  should  be  entirely  composed  of 
major-generals." 

The  better  Way. 
The  College  of  the  Propaganda  at  Rome,  gives  a  D.  D. 
to  all  its  graduates.     This  is  an  excellent  idea,  and  when 
the  Presbyterians  adopt  it,  they  will  at  least  be  consistent 
with  this  departure  from  their  original  plan.     The  same 
statement  applies  to  all  those  churches  which  object  to 
Roman  and  Episcopal  prelacy,  and  yet  favor  a  prelacy  of 
their  own.     They  evidently  reason  that  if  — 
A  saint  in  crape  is  twice  a  saint  in  lawn, 
a  preacher  is  proportionately  elevated  when  he  can  add 
D.  D.  to  his  name.     Of  course   be  is,  and  hence  an  adroit 
tradesman  when  making  out  a  hill  against  a  clergyman, 
always  adds  D.  D.  to  the  name  --  by  way  of  giving  taffy 


580  Our  Book. 

A  man  of  great  influence  in  the  bestowal  of  titles  (being 
controlling  trustee  of  a  college),  said  to  me :  "You  can 
have  no  idea  of  the  pressure  brought  to  bear  upon  our 
college  for  D.  D.,"  and  this  is  the  case  in  every  institution 
whose  favors  are  worth  having. 

A  Presbyterian  clegyman,  of  ray  acquaintance,  who  had 
obtained  a  D.  D.  by  means  of  that  very  "  pressure,"  im- 
mediately placed  it  on  his  envelopes  —  thus  "  if  this  be  not 

delivered  in  five  days,  return  to  Kev. ,  D.  D." 

How  natural  after  the  gratification  of  long  expectation  to 
let  the  public  know  his  success.    Men,  when  carried  away 
with  such  vanity,  forget  that  the  world  notices  it,  and 
f  ^Iso  draws  its  conclusions.    As  Gibbon  says  of  one  of  the 

professors  of  Gottingen,  with  whom  he  desired  to  open 
correspondence  "  when  I  wrote  him,  asking  his  address, 
he  covered  a  half  sheet  of  paper  with  the  foolish  enumera- 
tion of  his  titles."  Just  as  natural,  however,  then,  as  at 
the  present  time,  when  clerical  titles  are  paraded  in  every 
marriage  notice,  and  other  petty  occasions.  Brethren,  do 
not  be  surprised  if  your  vanity  sometimes  awakens  con- 
tempt. 

Lessons  to  public  Men. 

Humiliation  to  a  greater  or  less  degree  is  inevitable  in 
public  life,  and  to  bear  it  properly  is  the  highest  attain- 
ment. Those  who  learn  this  lesson  will  soon  feel  its  value, 
while  those  who  refuse  are  often  obliged  to  accept  another 
of  much  more  painful  character.  Had  Burr,  for  instance, 
after  his  defeat  in  the  gubernatorial  canvass  submitted  to 
the  result  he  might  have  recovered  popularity.  The  war 
of  1812  would  have  afforded  an  opportunity  to  display 
his  military  genius,  and  possibly  he  might  have  even 
become  president.  On  the  other  hand,  however,  he  chal- 
lenged and  shot  Hamilton,  which  was  a  blunder  (or 
rather  a  crime)  beyond  retrieving. 


Lessons  to  Public  Men.  581 

Speaking  of  these  lessons  of  humiliation  one  finds  in 
foreign  history  the  example  of  Burke,  the  pillar  of  British 
liberty.  He  represented  Bristol  in  Parliament,  but  his 
views  on  a  leading  question  led  to  such  unpopularity, 
that  he  did  not  repeat  the  canvass.  Burke  was  deeply 
wounded  by  this  change  of  opinion,  but  he  was  sustained 
by  high-toned  principle  and  his  parliamentary  services 
were  secured  to  the  country  by  his  return  from  another 
borough. 

A  similar  instance  in  found  in  Macaulay,  who  being  a 
candidate  for  the  same  office  in  Edinburgh  was  defeated, 
the  reason  being  his  support  of  an  unpopular  measure. 
A  few  years  afterward,  however,  Edinburgh's  regret  was 
manifested  by  returning  him  to  Parliament  without  oppo- 
sition. 

Then,  too,  there  is  the  example  of  Wellington.  Those 
who  have  heard  so  much  of  the  hero  of  Waterloo  may 
be  surprised  to  learn  that  only  seven  years  previous  to  his 
greatest  victory  he  was  superseded  in  his  command  in 
Spain  and  returned  home  to  meet  severe  public  censure. 
He  was  approved  by  a  court  of  inquiry,  however,  and 
the  next  year  was  restored  to  command.  He  then  brought 
the  terrible  war  in  the  Peninsula  to  a  victorious  close, 
after  which  came  the  last  triumph  over  Napoleon. 

In  America. 

Jonathan  Edwards,  expelled  from  the  Northampton 
pulpit  and  obliged  to  accept  the  humble  position  of  in- 
structor of  the  Indians  at  Stockbridge,  lived  to  see  North- 
ampton bitterly  repent,  while  he  himself  became  president 
of  Princeton  college. 

Philip  Schuyler,  unjustly  superseded  by  Gates,  was 
obliged  to  submit  to  censure,  but  long  before  his  death 
the  verdict  was  reversed.     Washington's   public  life  was 


582  OuK  Book. 

marked  by  still  greater  humiliation,  one  of  the  most  strik- 
ing instances  being  that  cabal  which  almost  accomplished 
hia  removal  from  the  command  of  the  Continental  army. 
The  failure  of  this  effort  indeed  was  one  of  those  Provi- 
dential interventions  which  so  often  marked  his  history. 

His  election  to  the  presidency  was  only  the  entrance 
to  deeper  humiliation.  Partisan  wrath  made  him  its 
central  object  of  attack  which  he  patiently  endured  for 
eight  years  —  suffering  more  than  can  ever  be  known 
from  the  malice,  not  only  of  open  hostility  but  of  pre- 
tended friendship  —  but  how  grand  was  his  triumph. 

One  of  the  most  striking  instances,  however,  is  found 
in  DeWitt  Clinton,  who  before  his  great  work  was  com- 
pleted, was  removed  from  the  office  of  canal  commissioner. 
This  was  done  by  a  vote  of  the  Legislature  in  strict 
obedience  to  political  tyrann}',  which  determined  that  the 
father  of  the  Erie  canal  should  be  sacrificed  in  order  to 
promote  the  chances  of  a  presidential  candidate. 

I  have  not  time  to  explain  how  this  was  to  be  accom- 
plished, but  can  only  say  that  in  1824,  on  the  last  day  of 
the  session,  a  bill  was  rushed  through  the  Senate  and  then 
sent  to  the  lower  house,  where,  after  some  opposition,  it 
also  passed,  and  thus  before  the  close  of  the  day  DeWitt 
Clinton  was  expelled  from  an  office  in  which  he  served 
both  faithfully  and  gratuitiously. 

The  Result. 
Intense  and  wide-spread  indignation  followed  this  out- 
rage, and  though  Clinton  showed  submission,  popular  senti- 
ment wrought  with  such  power,  that  on  the  next  election 
he  was  again  made  governor.  His  reply  to  the  address, 
which  he  received  from  a  public  meeting  in  New  York, 
soon  after  his  removal,  seems  prophetic,  since  when  written 
the  population  of  the  city  was  not  more  than  150,000. 


Clinton's  Prophect.  5S3 

New  York  will  in  the  course  of  time  become  the  granary  of  the 
world,  the  emporium  of  commerce,  the  seat  of  manufactures  and 
the  centre  of  vast  and  accumulating  capital  —  which  will  stimulate 
and  reward  labor  and  ingenuity.  Before  the  revolution  of  one 
century  the  whole  island  of  Manhattan,  covered  by  habitations 
and  a  dense  population  will  constitute  one  vast  city.     *     *     * 

Under  any  aspect  of  that  occurrence,  which  has  produced  this 
manifestations  of  your  friendship  and  confidence,  I  have  no  reason 
to  entertain  any  resentment  or  to  express  any  regret.  Indeed  I 
view  it  as  a  highly  felicitous  event  since  it  has  honored  me  with 
the  approbation  of  the  most  respected  of  my  fellow-citizens. 

The  election  of  Clinton  enabled  him  to  represent  the 
State  on  the  completion  of  his  great  enterprise.  He  tra- 
versed the  entire  length  of  the  canal,  receiving  appropriate 
honor,  and  then  beheld  the  intermingling  of  the  waters 
of  Lake  Erie  and  the  Atlantic  ocean. 


Disappointed  Candidates. 

One  of  the  saddest  aspects  of  an  election,  is  that  at  least 
one-half  of  the  candidates  must  be  disappointed,  and  po- 
litical defeat  is  often  crnshing.  The  first  unsuccessful 
candidate  for  the  presidency  was  Thomas  Jefferson,  who, 
in  1797,  had  sixty-nine  ballots  against  John  Adams' 
seventy-one,  but  his  disappointment  was  fully  compen- 
sated for  by  his  election  four  years  afterward. 

The  next  disappointed  presidential  candidate  was  John 
Adams  himself,  who,  in  1800,  sought  a  second  term.  He 
was,  however,  eight  ballots  behind  his  rivals,  and  this 
was  so  mortifying  that  he  retired  to  his  native  town 
(Quincy),  where  he  died  twenty  years  afterward.  He  had 
passed  so  many  years  in  public  hfe  that  tliis  retirement 
was  very  irksome.  He  lived,  however,  to  see  his  son  in 
the  presidential  chair,  which  seemed  to  compensate  for 
his  own  defeat. 

The  same  canvass  which  blighted  the  hopes  of  Adams, 
was  equally  fatal  to  Aaron  Burr,  for  when  Adams  was 
dropped,  Burr  and  Jefferson  were  tie.    Burr  was  confident 


684  OoK  Book. 

of  election,  but  after  thirty-six  ballotings,  the  tie  was 
broken  bj  a  majority  of  two  for  Jefferson.  Burr  became 
Vice-President,  but  before  his  office  expu-ed,  he  killed 
Hamilton,  and  this  was  the  end  of  his  political  career. 

Clinton  and  Adams. 

De  Witt  Clinton  was  another  disappointed  presidential 
candidate,  his  vote  being  eighty-nine  against  one  hundred 
and  twenty-eight  for  Madison, 

John  Quincy  Adams,  hke  his  father,  was  defeated  in  his 
canvass  for  a  second  term,  having  only  eighty-three  votes 
against  Jackson's  one  hundred  and  eighty-seven.  He 
bore  his  defeat  in  a  philosophical  manner,  and  having 
returned  to  Quincy,  soon  accepted  the  congressional  office, 
which  he  held  until  removed  by  death  —  expiring  in  the 
Capitol,  which  had  witnessed  his  sublime  efforts  in  behalf 
of  liberty. 

Yan  Buren's  first  presidential  canvass  took  place  in 
1836,  and  he  had  one  hundred  and  seventy  votes  against 
seventy-three  for  Harrison.  When,  however,  Van  Buren 
renewed  that  canvass  in  1840,  he  found  himself  a  victim 
to  disappointment,  his  vote  being  only  sixty  against  two 
hundred  and  thirty-four  for  Harrison. 

The  next  disappointed  candidate  was  Henry  Clay,  whose 
defeat  was  felt  severely,  both  by  himself  and  his  friends, 
especially  as  he  represented  protection  of  American  in- 
dustry. Horace  Greeley  labored  through  this  canvass 
with  incredible  ardor  and  devotion,  and  the  "lost  cause" 
almost  crushed  him.  How  little  he  then  thought  that  he, 
too,  would  share  the  same  fate,  though  to  a  more  inten- 
sified degree  ?  Clay,  however,  wisely  submitted  to  his 
disappointment  and  returned  to  public  life,  doing  good 
service  at  a  time  of  impending  danger,  until  removed  by 
death. 


More  Disappointment.  585 

Lewis  Cass  was  defeated  in  the  next  presidential  can- 
vass, and  liis  long  public  career  thus  closed  in  disappoint- 
ment. When  the  national  election  again  approached, 
Daniel  Webster  was  a  candidate  for  nomination,  but  was 
defeated  in  the  convention,  and  his  humiliation  was  so 
great  that  he  returned  home  (Marshfield)  and  died  before 
the  election  took  place.  Had  he  lived  a  few  weeks  longer 
he  would  have  witnessed  the  defeat  of  General  Scott, 
who  was  nominated  in  his  place. 

Scott,  was  thus  in  turn,  made  to  taste  the  same  bitter 
cup  that  had  been  applied  to  Webster's  lips,  and  in  this 
manner  every  step  to  political  success  is  accompanied  by 
the  humilation  of  some  rival.  When  a  man  enters  pubhc 
life,  the  first  question  should  be,  how  well  can  1  endure 
defeat  ?  Otherwise,  he  may  only  be  an  additional  illus- 
tration of  Gray's  fearful  picture  — 

Ambition  this  shall  tempt  to  rise, 
Then  hurl  the  wretch  from  high; 

To  bitter  scorn,  a  sacrifice,  - 
And  grinning  infamy. 

Slow  Information. 
Now  that  the  result  of  the  election  is  known,  two  days 
after  closing  the  poll,  one  cannot  but  contrast  this  rapidity 
with  the  slow  movement  of  news  in  Jackson's  time. 
Niles'  Register  of  November  29,  182S  (three  weeks  after 
the  election),  gives  a  careful  resume  of  the  various  States, 
and  concludes  thus  :  "  The  result  of  the  election  will  prob- 
ably be  one  hundred  and  seventy -eight  for  Jackson  and 
eighty-three  for  Adams."  This  delay  in  important  intel- 
ligence, is  more  clearly  shown  in  the  following  letter, 
written  by  the  old  hero  to  the  citizens  of  Lynchburg,  and 
which  I  also  find  in  Niles'.     The  italics  are  ray  own : 

"Hekmitage,  November  29,  1828. 
"Gentlemen:  — I  have  received  your  letter  of  the  22d  ult.,  pre- 
senting to  me  the  congratulations  of  my  friends  in  Lynchburg  and 

74 


586  Our  Book. 

its  vicinity,  and  inviting  me,  in  their  name,  to  pass  through  that 
section  of  the  country  on  my  way  to  Washington,  in  the  event  of 
my  election. 

"  So  lively  an  expression  of  regard  of  my  character  and  services 
as  that,  gentlemen,  which  you  have  been  pleased  to  convey  on 
this  occasion,  is  received  with  every  sentiment  of  respect,  and  I 
beg  leave  to  offer,  in  return  for  it,  the  grateful  assurance  that  it 
would  afford  me  great  satisfaction  to  accept  the  invitation,  were 
it  probable  that  I  could  comply  with  it. 

''  But  as  I  shall  feel  myself  bound  to  await  the  complete  ascertain- 
ments of  the  result,  and  then,  in  the  event  of  my  election,  would  lie 
compelled  to  take  the  most  expeditious  route  in  order  to  reach  the  city 
by  the  Ath  of  March,  the  pleasure  of  paying  you  my  personal  re- 
spects must  be  postponed  to  some  future  period. 

"I  pray  you  to  accept  for  yourselves,  and  present  to  those  you 
represent,  the  assurance  of  my  respect  and  high  consideration,  and 
believe  me,  very  sincerely, 

"  Your  obedient  servant, 

"ANDREW  JACKSON." 

Interesting  Tourists. 
Immediately  after  the  close  of  the  revolution,  great 
interest  was  felt  in  Great  Britain  concerning  the  new- 
nation,  which  was  visited  by  a  number  of  travelers,  the 
most  important  of  whom  were  Weld  and  Davis,  who, 
however,  show  a  marked  dissimilarity.  Weld,  who  came 
first,  is  said  to  have  been  a  promoter  of  Canada  interests, 
which  he  exalts,  at  the  same  time  detracting  from  the 
United  States.  The  most  interesting  features  in  his  book 
are  the  pictures  he  gives  of  Washington,  New  York  and 
Saratoga  Springs,  and  here  we  have  the  national  capital 
as  it  appeared  in  1Y96 : 

To  the  discriminating  judgment  of  George  Washington  it  was 
left  to  determine  the  spot  best  calculated  for  the  federal  city. 
After  mature  deliberation  he  fixed  on  a  situation  on  the  banks  of 
the  Potomac  river,  which  seems  to  be  marked  out  by  nature,  not 
only  for  a  large  city,  but  expressly  for  the  seat  of  the  metropolis 
of  the  United  States.  It  has  a  good  harbor  and  is  well-situated 
for  trading  with  the  interior  of  the  country.  Situated  on  the 
Potomac  are  two  other  towns  —  Georgetown  and  Alexandria  — 
and  the  interests  of  the  three  places  must  clash  together.  It  can 
hardly  he  doubted,  however,  but  that  the  federal  city  will  in  a 
few  years  completely  eclipse  the  other  two. 


OuK  New  Capital.  687 

The  tourist  then  expatiates  on  the  vast  western  terri- 
tory to  be  supplied  by  the  federal  city,  and  expresses  his 
belief  that  it  will  be  the  grand  emporium  of  the  west. 
He  then  gives  some  local  facts  as  follows: 

The  ground  already  marked  out  is  fourteen  miles  in  circum- 
ference ;  the  streets,  which  cross  at  right  angles,  are  from  ninety 
to  one  hundred  feet  wide,  and  the  avenues  are  one  hundred  and 
sixty  feet.  One  is  named  after  every  State,  and  a  hollow  square 
also  attached  to  each  as  a  suitable  place  for  statues,  columns, 
etc.,  which  at  a  future  period  the  people  of  any  of  these  States 
may  wish  to  erect  to  the  memory  of  great  men  that  may  appear 
in  the  country. 

The  Capitol  is  now  building  upon  the  most  elevated  spot  of 
ground  in  tlie  city,  which  happens  to  be  in  a  very  central  location. 
The  house  for  the  president  stands  northwest  from  the  capitol  at 
a  distance  of  a  mile  and  a  half.  One  hundred  acres  of  ground 
toward  the  river  are  left  adjoining  the  house  for  pleasure  grounds. 
Various  otiier  parts  are  appointed  for  churches,  theatres,  colleges, 
etc.  The  only  public  buildings  constructing  at  present  are  the 
president's  house,  the  capitol  and  a  large  hotel.  The  private 
houses  are  all  plain  buildings;  most  of  them  have  been  built  on 
speculation  and  still  remain  empty. 

Were  the  houses  that  have  been  built  situated  in  one  place  all 
together,  they  would  make  a  very  respectable  appearance,  but 
scattered  about  as  they  are,  a  spectator  can  hardly  perceive  any 
thing  like  a  town.  Except  the  streets  and  avenues  the  whole 
place  is  covered  with  ti-ees.  To  be  under  the  necessity  of  going 
through  a  deep  wood  for  one  or  two  miles  in  order  to  see  a  next- 
door  neiglibor,  and  in  the  same  city,  is  a  curious,  and,  I  believe, 
a  novel  circumstance. 

Our  first  President. 

Weld  saw  Washington  in  Philadelphia,  and  I  copy  his 
description  because  it  is  the  first  ever  given  by  a  foreigner : 

Few  persons  find  themselves  for  the  first  time  in  the  presence 
of  General  Washington  —  a  man  so  renowned  in  the  present  day 
for  his  wisdom  and  moderation,  and  whose  name  will  be  trans- 
mitted with  such  honor  to  posterity  —  without  being  impressed 
with  a  certain  degree  of  veneration  and  awe;  nor  do  the  emotions 
subside  on  a  closer  acquaintance.  On  the  contrary,  his  person  and 
deportment  are  such  as  rather  tend  to  augment  them.  There  is 
something  very  austere  in  his  countenance,  and  in  his  manners  he 
is  uncommonly  reserved.  I  have  heard  some  officers  that  served 
immediately  under  his  command  during  the  American  war  say 
that  they  never  saw  him  smile  during  the  whole  time  that  they 
were  with  him. 


688  Our  Book. 

The  height  of  his  person  is  about  five  feet  eleven ;  his  chest  ia 
full,  and  his  limbs,  though  rather  slender,  well-shaped  aud  muscu- 
lar. His  head  is  small,  in  which  respect  he  resembles  the  make 
of  a  great  nuuiber  of  his  countrymen.  His  eyes  are  of  a  light  gray 
color,  and  in  proportion  to  the  length  of  his  face,  his  nose  is  long. 

He  speaks  with  great  diffidence,  and  sometimes  hesitates  for  a 
word,  but  it  is  always  to  find  one  particularly  adapted  to  his 
meaning.     His  language  is  manly  and  expressive. 

At  levee,  his  discourse  to  strangers  turns  principally  upoo  the 
subject  of  America,  and  if  they  have  been  through  any  remarkable 
places  his  conversation  is  free  and  particularly  interesting,  as  he 
is  intimately  acquainted  with  every  part  of  the  country.  He  is 
much  more  open  and  free  in  his  behavior  at  levee  than  in  private, 
and  in  the  company  of  ladies  still  more  so  than  when  solely  with  men. 

General  Washington  gives  no  public  dinners  and  other  enter- 
tainments except  to  those  who  are  in  diplomatic  capacities  and  to 
a  few  families  on  terms  of  intimacy  with  Mrs.  Washington. 
Strangers  with  whom  he  wishes  to  have  some  conversation  about 
agriculture  or  any  such  subject  are  sometimes  invited  to  tea.  His 
self-moderation  is  well  known  to  the  world  already.  It  is  a  re- 
markable circumstance,  which  redounds  to  his  eternal  honor,  that 
while  President  of  the  United  States  he  never  appointed  one  of 
his  own  relations  to  any  office  of  trust  or  emolument,  although  he 
has  several  that  are  men  of  abilities  and  well  qualified  to  fill  the 
most  important  stations  in  the  government. 

YiEw  OF  New  Yokk. 

Reaching  tlie  commercial  metropolis  he  presents  the 
following  sketch : 

New  York  is  built  on  an  island  of  its  own  name,  fourteen  miles 
long  and  on  an  average  one  mile  in  breadth.  At  its  southern  ex- 
tremity stands  the  city.  The  most  agreeable  part  of  the  town  is 
the  neighboohood  of  the  battery,  which,  on  a  summer  evening,  is 
crowded  with  people.  From  the  battery  a  handsome  street  about 
seventy  feet  wide,  called  Broadway,  runs  due  north  through  the 
town  on  a  ridge  of  high  ground  between  the  two  rivers. 

Their  theatre  is  of  wood  and  a  most  miserable  edifice  it  is, 
but  a  new  one  is  now  building,  on  a  grand  scale,  which  it  is 
thought  will  be  as  much  too  large  for  the  town  as  the  other  is  too 
small.  The  population  of  New  York  and  Long  Island  is  now 
more  than  60,000,  and  is  on  the  increase. 

Having  done  New  York  he  gives  us  the  following 

sketch  of  a  popular  watering  place  : 

Saratoga  contains  about  forty  houses  and  a  Dutch  Reformed 
church,  but  they  are  so  scattered  about  that  it  has  not  the  smallest 
appearance  of  a  town.  In  this  neighborhood,  upon  the  borders 
of  a  marsh,   are  several  very  remarkable  springs.     The  various 


Weld  and  Davis.  689 

properties  of  the  water  have  not  been  ascertained  with  any  great 
aecuracy,  but  it  is  said  to  be  impregnated  by  a  fossil  acid  and 
some  saline  substance ;  there  is  also  a  great  deal  of  fixed  air  in  it. 
The  water  is  very  pungent  to  the  taste,  and  acts  as  a  cathartic  on 
some  people  and  as  an  emetic  on  others. 

The  evil  report  which  Weld  carried  home  did  not  ob- 
tain much  credence,  and  was  of  but  little  benefit  to 
Canada..  The  mass  of  emigration,  indeed,  preferred  the 
United  States,  and  Weld's  misrepresentations  only  illus- 
trate the  futility  of  any  attempt  against  the  natural  tend- 
ency of  progress. 

Davis'  Travels. 
Just  at  the  time  that  Weld  was  about  to.  leave  New 
York,  John  Davis  was  preparing  to  sail  for  the  same  port. 
He  had  been  a  great  traveler  for  that  day,  having  made 
two  voyages  to  India,  and  visited  Canton,  St.  Helena  and 
Cape  Town.  He  was  master  of  both  French  and  Latin, 
and  was  evidently  well  read,  and  yet  he  has  left  no  per- 
manent record  in  the  Hterary  world  except  his  book  on 
America,  which  is  very  little  known.  He  had  read 
Weld's  travels,  which  first  appeared  in  newspaper  letters, 
and  he  opens  his  book  with  the  following  clever  hit  at 
the  narrow-minded  tourist : 

I  make  no  mention  of  my  dinner,  whether  it  be  hot  or  cold.  I 
never  complain  of  my  bed,  nor  mention  nocturnal  pests.  I  make 
no  drawmgs  of  old  castles,  old  churches,  old  pent  holes  and  old 
walls. 

This  mention  of  old  walls  and  pent  holes  refers  to 
Weld's  drawings  of  Quebec,  and  the  old  castles  and  old 
churches  are  merely  inserted  in  order  to  break  the  sharp- 
ness of  the  personality. 

Davis  reached  New  York  in  March,  1798,  after  a 
stormy  voyage  of  two  months  and  eleven  days,  having 
paid  for  passage  seven  guineas,  which  at  that  time  was  a 
very  large  sum.  Traveling  then,  liowever,  was  much 
more  expensive  than  at  present. 


590  OuK  Book. 

Davis  found  himself  without  resources  in  a  strange 
city,  and  therefore  determined  to  turn  his  brains  to 
account.  Hugo  Caritat,  who  kept  a  circulating  library, 
aspired  to  become  a  publisher,  and  issued  some  of  Brock- 
den  Brown's  novels.  Davis  applied  to  him  for  employ- 
ment, and  when  Caritat  learned  that  the  applicant  was  a 
French  scholar  he  gave  him  an  immediate  task.  Napo- 
leon was  then  the  object  of  American  curiosity,  and  his 
Italian  campaign  had  been  published  in  Paris.  Caritat 
owned  a  copy  and  engaged  Davis  to  translate  it,  the  fee 
being  $200.  This  was  then  a  large  sum,  and  the  task  was 
finished  in  two  months.  It  gave  Davis  some  note,  and 
he  became  acquainted  with  Aaron  Bnrr,  whose  manners 
at  once  charmed  him.  He  saw  Theodosia,  and  the  reader 
may  recall  her  sketch  of  this  yoimg  prodigy,  which  ap- 
pears on  a  foregoing  page. 

Going  South. 

He  then  visited  Philadelphia,  but  as  the  city  was  un- 
healthy he  sailed  for  Charleston,  where  lie  met  a  learned 
and  witty  young  Irishman,  named  Louis  George,  who 
afterward  wrote  him  some  very  racy  letters.  Davis  be 
came  a  teacher  in  a  planter's  family,  and  saw  much  of 
southern  life.  At  this  time  he  translated  one  of  the  odes 
of  Horace  into  verse  and  sent  it  to  the  Charleston  paper. 
It  was  printed  and  happened  to  meet  the  eye  of  Joseph 
Dennie,  editor  of  the  Portfolio,  who  copied  it,  with  a  few 
words  of  admiration,  and  this  gave  Davis  a  still  higher 
literary  rank.  He  then  sailed  for  New  York  and  became 
tutor  in  the  Ludlow  family.  At  this  time  Charles  Brock- 
den  Brown  was  living  in  Pine  street,  and  Davis  mentions 
the  dismal  room  which  the  author  occupied,  also  his 
shabby  dress,  but  it  was  all  that  literature  would  permit. 

Caritat  proposed  that  Davis  should  compile  a  volume 


John  Davis.  591 

of  modern  poetry,  but  the  project  failed.  Davis  found  a 
congenial  group  which  met  at  King's  tavern,  in  Wall 
street,  and  he  also  found  his  Irish  friend,  George,  teach- 
ing; school  on  Lons:  Island.  He  wrote  at  this  time  a  tale 
called  The  Farmer  of  New  Jersey,  which  Caritat  pub- 
lished, and  it  had  a  remunerative  sale,  but  I  know  of  no 
one  who  has  ever  seen  a  copy  of  it. 

Visits  Washington. 

Davis  then  determined  to  improve  this  increase  in  his 

purse  by  visiting  Washington,  and  he  was  there  during 

Jefferson's  first  inauguration.     He  is  the  author  of  that 

false  and  ridiculous  story  concerning  the  manner  in  which 

the  president  approached  the  capitol.     Here  it  is,  and  in 

point  of  absurdity  it  is  almost  equal  to  Weems'  fable  of 

the  cherry  tree  and  the  little  hatchet : 

The  politeness  of  a  member  from  Virginia  procured  me  a  con- 
venient seat  in  the  capitol,  and  an  hour  afterward  Mr.  Jefferson 
entered  the  house,  when  the  august  body  of  American  senators 
rose  to  receive  him.  He  came,  however,  to  tlie  house  without 
ostentation.  His  dress  was  of  plain  cloth,  and  he  rode  on  horse- 
back to  the  capitol  without  a  single  guard  or  even  servant  in  his 
train,  dismounted  without  assistance  and  hitched  the  bridle  of 
his  horse  to  the  paling. 

The  reader  will  observe  that  the  traveler  says  he  was 
in  the  house  an  hour  before  Jefferson  entered.  He  there- 
fore admits  that  he  did  not  witness  the  scene  which  he 
describes,  and  his  statement  is  therefore  a  sheer  invention 
or  an  imposition  on  his  credulity.  Some  man,  noticing 
his  verdancy,  may  have  "  given  him  away,"  but  common 
sense  would  teach  any  one  that  the  scene  was  impossible. 
Even  in  a  petty  village  there  would  be  a  crowd  following 
a  public  man,  and  he  would  not  be  allowed  to  hitch  his 
own  horse  to  the  fence.  Common  sense,  however,  has 
but  little  influence  with  the  gullible  crowd  of  foreign  trav- 
elers. 


69^  Our  Book. 

While  in  Washington  Davis  heard  John  Randolph 
speak  in  Congress,  and  calls  him  a  "  Demosthenes  who 
has  studied  the  graces."  Burr,  who  had  just  been  made 
vice-president,  invited  the  traveler  to  dine  with  him,  and 
he  received  a  full  share  of  attention.  Here  is  a  night 
scene  which  presents  a  striking  contrast  with  the  Wash- 
ington of  to-day  : 

The  moon  was  rising  from  the  woods  and  I  surveyed  the  capi- 
tol  by  its  light,  meditating  on  the  future  state  of  the  western  em- 
pire, its  clash  of  interests,  the  commotion  of  demagogues  and  the 
disunion  of  States  —  but  dumb  be  the  oracle  of  prediction. 

He  also  says  that  he  saw  a  cow  feeding  on  a  bank  with 
the  usual  bell  depending  from  her  neck,  and  it  is  evident 
that  Washington  was  then  hardly  more  than  a  vast  camp 
of  politicians  in  a  wilderness. 

Davis  left  Washington  in  disappointment,  having  ex- 
pected a  government  clerkship,  but  no  vacancy  occurred. 
At  Philadelphia  he  again  saw  Brockden  Brown,  who  had 
left  New  Tork.  Brown  introduced  him  to  Dennie,  the 
editor  of  the  Portfolio,  and  other  literati,  from  whom  he 
received  due  attention.  Returning  to  New  Tork,  Caritat 
published  a  volume  of  his  poems,  which  was  dedicated 
to  Burr.  He  also  published  a  tale  by  Davis,  called  Wan- 
derings of  William  ;  or  the  Inconstancy  of  Youth.  The 
author  addressed  this  to  Flavia,  in  a  manner  well  adapted 
to  assist  its  sale : 

Avail  yourself  of  the  moment  that  oflfers  for  the  perusal  of  this 
book.  Take  it!  Read  it!  There  is  nothing  to  fear  —  your  gov- 
erness has  gone  out  and  your  mamma  is  not  risen.  Do  you  hesi- 
tate?    Werter  has  been  under  your  pillow  and  the has  lain 

on  your  toilet. 

Davis  evidently  remembered  the  ingenious  way  in 
which  Rousseau  opens  his  confessions :  "  The  woman  that 
reads  this  book  is  lost,"  but  notwithstanding  the  imita- 
tation  the  Wanderings  of  William  only  proved  an  ephem- 
eral publication,  and  I  have  never  seen  a  copy. 


Jeffekson  criticised.  593 

On  reaching  New  York,  from  the  sonth,  Davis  found 
a  number  of  spicy  letters  from  the  rollicking  school  mas- 
ter, George,  who  had  an  unusual  epistolary  gift.  They 
were  written  in  the  outskirts  of  Brooklyn,  where  he  was 
teaching  school,  and  afforded  Davis  so  much  pleasure  tliat 
he  gives  them  a  place  in  his  volume,  and  I  venture  an 
extract : 

Long  Island,  June  12,1801. 

"While  devouring  Newtown  pippins  and  drinking  cider  to  tlie 
health  of  your  hardship  in  my  heart,  the  stage-driver  brought  me 
your  welcome  epistles.  At  first  the  fellow  pretended  there  was 
no  letter  for  me  (I  tolerate  these  liberties,  because  the  Jehu  has 
a  pretty  wife),  but  in  a  few  minutes  he  delivered  me  the  packet. 

Jucundus  est  legere  quam  bibere,  so  I  left  the  old  parson,  and  his 
wife,  and  his  daughter  (her  nose  is  like  the  tower  of  Lebanon 
looking  toward  Damascus)  and  I  opened,  0,  Devil !  thy  budget 
of  satire.  This  has  revived  me,  and  I  now  walk  about  with  your 
epistles  in  my  hand,  which,  however,  I  am  obliged  to  put  down 
every  five  minutes  to  hold  both  my  sides  while  I  laugh  it  out. 

Tell  me  if  you  are  about  publishing  your  poems?  Do  not  go  far 
for  a  title ;  notiiing  appears  so  stiff  and  pedantic  as  a  little  book 
with  a  magnificent  title.  Remember  that  Horace  gives  his  odes 
no  other  name  than  Carmma ;  though  he  might  have  accumulated 
a  thousand  imposing  epithets  to  decorate  his  title  page. 

Heloise  has  just  sent  me  my  stockings  and  cravats  delicately 
mended.  She  is  an  amiable  little  devil,  and  I  often  go  to  see  her 
■ — •  mea  sola  voluptas. 

I  have  sent  Lang  another  essay  to  insert  in  his  Gazette.  It  is 
the  story  of  an  Indian  warrior;  a  mere  cram;  but  no  matter,  any 
thing  is  good  enough  for  these  Americans  — fruges  consumere  nati. 

The  English  language  is  not  written  with  puritj^  in  America. 
The  structure  of  Jefferson's  sentences  is,  I  think,  French,  and  he 

uses  words  unintelligible  to  an  Englishman.     Where  the  d 1 

did  he  get  the  word  "  lengthy?"  Breadthy  and  depthy  would  be 
equally  admissible.  I  can  overlook  his  verb  "belittle."  It  is  in- 
troduced in  wantonness;  but  he  has  no  right,  that  I  know,  to 
out-adverb  all  other  writers  and  improve  ill  into  illy  —and  was  one 
of  my  countrymen  to  describe  the  Natural  Bridge,  that  huge  mass 
of  rock,  as  "springing,  as  it  were,  up  to  heaven,"  would  it  not  be 
said  that  Paddy  had  made  a  bull? 

Reader,  my  chief  purpose  in  republishing  this   corre- 
spondence is  to  present  one  of  the  curiosities  of  litera- 
ture.    Here  is  a  book  dedicated  to  Jefferson,  and  yet  con- 
taining, a  very  humiliating  criticism.     What  could  have 
75 


694  Our  Book. 

been  the  reason  for  so  egregious  a  solecism,  so  unpardon- 
able a  lack  of  manners  ?  Was  it  forgetf  ulness  or  careless- 
ness? But  whatever  may  have  been  the  cause,  Davis 
exposed  his  patron's  defects  while  claiming  to  honor  him. 
What  must  have  been  Jefferson's  feelings  when  he  saw 
the  dedication  on  the  one  hand  and  the  criticism  on  the 
other?  It  really  seems  like  bringing  Samson  out  to  the 
crowd  in  order  that  he  should  make  sport.  Alas  to  think 
that  the  President  of  the  United  States  and  the  author  of 
the  Declaration  of  Independence,  should  be  thus  made 
the  subject  of  British  ridicule — and  that  too,  by  one  of 
his  former  proteges. 

Wert's  Retort. 

The  unfavorable  picture  which  Weld  and  Davis  gave 
of  Virmnia  customs  led  William  Wirt  to  write  the  Let- 
ters  of  a  British  Spy.  They  appeared  in  the  Bichmond 
Argus  in  1803,  having  been,  as  the  author  said,  found 
among  the  papers  of  a  member  of  Parliament,  who  was 
making  the  American  tour.  They  contain  some  very  in- 
teresting sketches,  the  best  being  The  Old  Blind  Preacher, 
the  original  of  which  was  James  Waddell,  whose  daughter 
married  Archibald  Alexander.  The  reader  will  notice 
the  use  of  the  word  British  as  a  set-off  against  the  in- 
correct British  travelers,  and  Wirt  makes  the  alleged 
author  a  member  of  Parhament,  in  order  to  give  a  higher 
dignity  to  the  work.  He  renewed  the  effort  five  years 
afterward  in  a  series  of  articles  published  in  the  Rich- 
mond Enquirer,  in  which  the  errors  and  prejudices  of 
British  tourists  were  exposed  in  an  unsparing  manner. 

Foreign  Graves. 

The  proposal  to  bring  home  the  remains  of  Joel  Bar- 
low, calls  attention  to  other  American  diplomatists,  who 


Joel  Barlow.  595 

rest  in  foreign  graves.  The  first  of  this  unfortunate 
number  was  James  Dodge,  consul  at  Tunis.  He  was  a 
native  of  New  York  of  highly  reputable  family,  and  his 
brother  Richard  Dodge,  became  brother-in-law  to  Wash- 
ington Irving.  When  the  Tripolitan  war  was  concluded, 
and  the  Moorish  pirates  of  the  Mediterranean  had  been 
taught  to  respect  our  flag,  James  Dodge  was  sent  to 
Tunis  to  represent  our  government.  He  died  while  in 
this  service  and  rests  in  an  African  grave.  John  How- 
ard Payne  also  died  while  holding  the  same  office,  but 
his  remains  were  brought  to  our  national  capital  for  inter- 
ment. 


nfiaetRrs.sc 

JOEL  BAKLOW. 


The  next  instance  was  Joel  Barlow,  who  died  in  Po- 
land while  serving  as  ambassador  at  the  court  of  Napo- 
leon. I  have  previously  mentioned  the  painful  circum- 
stances attending  his  death  —  which  was  aggravated  by 
the  fearful  and  harrowing  scenes  connected  with  Napo- 
leon's retreat  from  Russia.  This  led  him  to  write  with 
faltering  hand  that  impressive  and  even  terrible  picture 
of  the  horrors  inflicted   on  Europe  by  Napoleon,  whose 


596  OuE  Book. 

bloody  ambition  had  changed  the  ambassador's  admira* 
tion  to  horror. 

It  is  the  most  powerful  of  all  of  Barlow's  productions, 
but  never  before  had  any  poet  such  fearful  inspiration, 
and  hence  it  will  long  stand  unequalled  in  literature.  It 
may  be  mentioned  in  this  connection  that  Barlow's  in- 
dictment of  Napoleon,  and  Je£Eerson's  indictment  of 
George  the  Third  in  the  Declaration  of  Independence, 
are  the  most  tremendous  utterances  that  our  country  ever 
delivered  against  foreign  tyranny. 

Bayard  Taylor, 
A  still  more  remarkable  instance  is  found  in  Bayard 
Taylor,  who  died  while  holding  the  mission  to  Berlin. 
He  was  one  of  the  most  remarkable  combinations  of  fine 
personal  appearance  and  literary  ability,  while  as  a  tourist 
he  has  never  been  equalled.     Dying  at  the  age  of  fifty- 


BAYARD   TAYLOR. 

three,  he  had  seen  all  of  the  globe  that  was  interesting  or 
accessible,  and  had  published  more  than  a  dozen  works 
on  foreign  travel  besides  poems  and  works  of  fiction. 

Of  all  lands,  other  than  his  own,  Germany  attracted 
him  most,  and  he  was  well  read  in  the  literature  and  history 


Robert  Walsh.  597 

of  that  exalted  nation.  This  rendered  him  peculiarly 
suitable  to  the  mission  to  Berlin,  which  he  filled  in  a 
very  acceptable  manner  until  his  death,  which  took  place 
in  1878,  His  remains  were  brought  home  and  now  rest 
in  his  native  place,  Kennett  Square,  near  Philadelphia. 

Alexander  H.  Everett  died  in  diplomatic  service  in 
China  in  1847.  He  was  the  elder  brother  of  Edward 
Everett  and  was  nearly  his  equal  in  general  ability,  being 
indeed  his  superior  in  diplomatic  experience.  He  repre- 
sented his  country  to  a  greater  or  less  degree  at  the 
courts  of  Hussia,  Holland,  Spain,  and  then  was  sent  to 
China  where  he  found  a  grave. 

The  next  diplomatist  that  died  abroad  was  Robert 
Walsh  of  Philadelphia.  Like  Barlow,  he  had  been  an 
editor,  and  won  a  name  in  literature  by  various  produc- 
tions of  a  high  order  of  merit.  He  was  the  ablest  jour- 
nalist of  his  day,  and  the  National  Gazette  had  no  equal 
during  his  supervision.  This  led  to  a  foreign  diplomatic 
apjDointment,  and  he  died  in  Paris.  Walsh's  editorials 
were  noted  for  their  clear  cut  expressions,  some  of  which 
seem  like  philosophic  proverbs,  as  is  evident  from  the 
following  extracts : 

Restraints  laid  by  a  people  on  itself  are  sacrifices  made  to  liberty, 
and  it  often  shows  the  greatest  wisdom  in  imposing  them. 

The  true  Fortunatus  purse  is  the  richness  of  the  generous  and 
tender  affections  which  are  worth  more  for  felicity  than  the 
greatest  powers  of  the  understanding  or  the  highest  favors  of 
Fortune. 

James  W.  Alexander  attributed  some  of  the  best 
features  in  his  admirable  style  to  the  daily  perusal  of  the 
National  Gazette,  and  this  shows  how  a  well  conducted 
paper  educates  its  readers. 

To  return  to  the  subject  of  foreign  graves,  one  cannot 
but  notice  the  early  repugnance  to  distance  from  home. 
Thus,  Virgil  in  his  tenth  eclogue,  bewails  the  fate  of  hig 


r 


598  Our  Book. 

friend  procul  a  patria  (far  from  bis  native  land),  and 
this  thought  becomes  intensified  by  death,  as  the  same 
author  says  in  one  of  the  battle  scenes  of  the  ^neid : 
Et  dulces  moriens  reminiscitur  Argos. 
Pope's  utterances  on  the  same  subject,  were  alone  suf- 
ficient to  ensure  fame : 

By  foreiga  hands  thy  dying  eyes  were  closed, 
By  foreign  hands  thy  decent  limbs  composed. 
By  foreign  hands  thy  humble  grave  adorned, 
By  strangers  honored  and  by  strangers  mourned. 

Trinity  Chukch. 

There  are  tbree  Episcopal  churcbes  in  New  York 
city  bearing  the  name  of  Trinity  and  also  two  cemeteries. 
Concerning  the  former  it  may  be  said  tbat  in  addition 
to  Trinity  churcb,  whicb  fronts  Wall  street,  there  is 
Trinity  chapel,  in  Twenty-fifth  street,  a  mile  and  a  balf 
distant.  It  is  a  brancb  of  the  old  Trinity,  built  for  the 
uptown  part  of  the  congregation,  and,  though  called  a 
chapel,  is  really  an  elegant  church.  Next  is  Holy  Trin- 
ity, an  independent  organization  established  under  the 
labors  of  S.  H.  Tyng.  It  is  certainly  strange  that  the 
Episcopal  authorities  should  have  permitted  such  multi- 
plicity of  names,  especially  as  the  term  ''  Holy  Trinity  " 
suggests  an  unfavorable  comparison  with  the  original 
church. 

The  two  Cemeteries. 
Much  confusion  is  also  occasioned  by  the  similarity  be- 
tween Trinity  churchyard  and  Trinity  cemetery,  and  yet 
though  both  are  in  the  city  they  are  eight  miles  apart. 
The  former  is  the  plot  in  which  the  church  stands  and 
contains  nearly  two  acres.  Interment  is  now  only  per- 
mitted in  the  tombs,  and  this  is  but  very  rare,  since  most 
of  the  old  families  that   worshi]:)ped  there   are  extinct. 


:—  -_.:tYLfer?^ 


Trinity's  Wealth.  599 

The  grounds  contain  three  tombs  of  more  than  usual  in- 
terest, for  one  of  them  holds  the  remains  of  Lord  Stirling, 
one  of  Washington's  best  generals,  while  in  another 
which  belongs  to  the  Livingston  famil}-^,  rests  Fulton,  of 
steamboat  fame.  The  third,  which  belongs  to  the  Hoff- 
mans  contains  the  remains  of  Matilda  Hoffman,  the  early 
and  only  object  of  Irving's  affections.  In  addition  to 
these  is  the  grave  of  the  gallant  Captain  Lawrence,  but 
mj  object  is  not  so  much  to  mention  distinguished  names 
as  to  show  the  difference  in  these  places  of  mortuary  re- 
pose. Trinity  cemetery  is  a  plot  of  ten  acres  at  One 
Hundred  and  Fifty-fifth  street  which  was  bought  by 
Trinity  corporation  more  than  forty  years  ago  for  mort- 
uary purposes.  Tlie  ground  then  cost  one  thousand 
dollars  an  acre,  but  one  acre  is  now  worth  ten  times  the 
cost  of  the  entire  plot.  It  slopes  toward  the  Hudson 
and  is  really  the  finest  piece  of  land  in  the  upper  part 
of  the  city. 

Tkinity's    Wealth. 

This  is  increasing  with  marvelous  rapidity,  being 
favored  by  the  vast  flow  of  business  to  the  west  side  of 
the  town.  Trinity's  estate  has  three  sources  of  origin. 
First,  the  churchyard  proper,  which  was  granted  by  the 
government  in  1695  as  a  place  of  interment  for  the  Eng- 
lish settlers.  The  Dutch  had  several  churchyards,  and 
the  English  desired  one  for  their  own  use,  and  this  ex- 
plains the  absence  of  Dutch  names  in  the  Trinity  burial 
ground.  The  latter  is  now  worth  five  millions  and  is 
alone  sufficient  wealth  for  any  church.  Next  is  the 
King's  farai,  as  it  was  called,  and  which  begins  at  Fulton 
street,  on  the  west  side  of  Broadway. 

Fulton  street  was  formerly  called  Partition  street, 
simply  because  it  separated    Trinity  lease  hold  property 


600  Our  Book. 

from  lands  held  in  fee.  The  King's  farm  was  granted  in 
order  to  provide  a  fund  for  missionary  effort  among  the 
Indians,  and  though  the  conditions  were  never  performed, 
the  church  held  the  property  which  is  now  worth  fifty 
millions.  St.  Paul's  church  stands  on  the  King's  farm 
and  this  plot  alone  is  worth  two  millions,  and  then  there 
was  St.  John's  Park,  for  which  Commodore  Yander- 
bilt  paid  a  round  million  and  covered  it  with  a  freight 
depot. 

Anneke   Jans. 

The  third  property  in  this  immense  estate  is  the  An- 
neke Jans  farm  over  which  Trinity  obtained  control  dar- 
ing the  early  part  of  the  last  century.  It  lies  north  of 
the  King's  farm  and  was  for  a  long  time  of  very  little 
value,  but  at  present  business  is  rapidly  centering  there. 
The  heirs  of  Anneke  Jans  have  often  been  deluded  by 
the  hope  of  recovery,  but  this  is  impossible.  The  case 
was  thoroughly  tried  more  than  forty  years  ago  and  the 
chancellor  decided  that  all  claim  was  barred  by  the 
statute  of  limitations.  In  other  words  the  heirs  should 
have  begun  sooner.  The  above  mentioned  three  proper- 
ties render  Trinity  the  richest  ecclesiastical  corporation 
in  the  world,  especially  since  the  value  doubles  every 
time  a  lease  expires.  These  leases  are  drawn  for  twenty- 
one  years  with  privilege  of  renewal  at  a  valuation  and  the 
tenant  pays  all  taxes  and  assessments. 

Tkestity    and  St.  Paul's. 

I  Tiave  alluded  to  some  of  the  distinguished  names 
connected  with  old  Trinity  churchyard,  and  will  only 
add  that  the  most  noticeable  monuments  are  those  in 
honor  of  Hamilton  and  Captain  James  Lawrence,  the 
latter  so  well   known   by   his   dying  utterance  "Pon't 


Trinity  Cemetery.  601 

give  up  the  ship."  In  addition  to  these  is  the  grave  of 
Wilham  Bradford  who  printed  the  first  book  and  also  the 
first  newspaper  in  the  colony  of  New  York. 

St  Paul's  churchyard  —  a  little  farther  up  Broad- 
way—  contains  the  grave  of  General  Montgomery,  the 
unfortunate  hero  of  Quebec,  and  also  that  of  Joseph 
Holt,  the  patriotic  printer  of  revolutionary  days.  Cooke 
the  tragedian  also  rests  in  the  same  precinct  and  his  mon- 
ument still  attracts  notice.  Captain  George  I.  Backer 
who  shot  Phihp  Hamilton  in  a  duel,  may  be  mentioned 
in  the  same  connection,  and  inside  the  church  a  tablet 
bears  the  name  of  Robert  C.  Sands,  the  only  poet  buried 
in  the  city  of  New  York. 

Trinity  Cemetery. 

This,  as  has  been  mentioned,  is  eight  miles  from  Trin- 
ity churchyard  and  occupies  a  large  plot  on  the  banks  of 
the  Hudson.  Among  the  prominent  names  on  its  mort- 
uary list  is  the  famous  naturalist  John  James  Audubon, 
whose  Birds  of  America  form  one  of  the  wonders  of 
art.  He  was  eight  years  engraving  the  plates  after 
drawings  from  nature  by  his  own  hand  ;  less  than  two 
hundred  copies  were  made,  and  the  price,  which  at  first 
was  one  thousand  dollars,  has  now  trebled. 

Another  interesting  name  connected  with  Trinity 
cemetery  is  Madame  Jumel,  who  reached  the  extreme  age 
of  ninety-five,  and  yet  during  all  this  time  preserved  the 
secret  of  her  origin  and  other  personal  facts,  thus  leaving 
the  veil  of  mystery  upon  her  record.  Eliza  Bowen  was 
a  beautiful  adventuress,  who  captivated  a  rich  French 
merchant  (Stephen  Jumel),  and  afterward  induced  him 
to  make  her  his  wife.  He  died,  and  as  her  subsequent 
marriage  to  Burr  is  mentioned  in  another  place,  I  only 
need  to  add  her  death,  which  took  place  in  1865.  Her 
76 


602  Our  Book. 

history  contains  such  elements  of  romance  that  no  doubt 
it  may  yet  afford  a  theme  for  the  novehst. 

AsTOK  Yault. 
Three  generations  of  this  family  now  occupy  the  plain 
granite  tomb  which  bears  the  name  of  Astor,  and  forms 
a  conspicuous  feature  in  Trinity  cemetery.  Old  John 
Jacob  was  first  buried  beneath  St.  Thomas'  church,  and 
when  the  latter  was  demolished  liis  remains  were  re- 
moved to  their  present  place  of  rest.  A  quarter  century 
afterward  his  son  William  E.  Astor,  wlio  then  was  the 
richest  man  in  America  died,  and  was  buried  in  the  same 
tomb  which  now  awaits  other  real  estate  kings  of  the 
same  family. 


MIDNIGHT  IN  WALL  STREET. 

Wall  street  is  a  strange  place  in  the  day,  but  a  still 
stranger  place  at  night.  I  have  often  read  Goldsmith's 
Deserted  Village,  but  I  know  of  no  spot  that  seems  so 
truly  deserted  as  Wall  street  between  sun  and  sun.  The 
more  lively  a  scene  appears  at  one  time,  the  lonelier  it 
will  appear  at  others  ;  and  if  Wall  street  be  filled  by  a 
dense  throng  at  three  in  the  afternoon,  it  is  as  desolate  as 
a  graveyard  at  three  in  the  morning.  But  Wall  street 
after  all  is  only  a  graveyard,  full  of  buried  hopes  and 
characters,  buned  fortunes  and  fame. 

The  last  broker  that  leaves  the  street  always  walks 
with  a  step  pecuharly  hurried,  as  though  he  was  afraid 

Note.  —  The  following  tale  was  occasioned  by  the  ruin  of  several  of  my 
acquaintances  through  speculation.  One  indeed  was  driven  by  his  losses  to 
commit  suicide.  In  order  to  repeat  the  lesson,  I  have  given  it  place  in  this 
volume,  and  having  been  a  close  observer  of  Wall  street  for  many  years  I 
can  safely  claim  that  this  sketch,  though  a  bit  of  fiction,  is  much  within 
the  limits  of  reality. 


Midnight  in  Wall  Street.  603 

that  the  devil  might  be  at  his  heels,  and  when  he  is  gone 
one  begins  to  feel  the  awfulness  of  the  place.  By  sun- 
set shadows  solemn  and  impressive  steal  over  you,  and 
the  heavy  architecture  seems  still  more  massive  with 
gloom.  The  street,  however,  is  not  all  solitary  yet. 
Some  belated  clerk  occasionally  rattles  along,  his  boots 
ringing  on  the  pavement  for  half  a  block  or  more,  and 
then  in  a  moment  he  is  gone,  and  silence  once  more 
reigns. 

At  ten  o'clock  one  gets  weary  of  pacing  the  solitude, 
and  hence  it  is  natural  to  take  a  place  as  I  did  in  the 
grand  Ionic  porch  of  the  Custom  House  and  lean  againet 
one  of  those  mighty  columns  of  granite.  The  Custom 
House  is  the  noblest  specimen  of  commercial  architect- 
ure in  New  York,  but  it  is  the  greatest  waste  of  land. 
On  this  plot  of  land,  which  cost  a  million  and  is  now 
worth  five  times  that  sum,  stands  a  ponderous  mass 
of  granite  which  cost  five  hundred  thousand  dollars  to 
erect,  and  which  unless  demolished  may  stand  for  ages. 
But  in  point  of  economy,  it  is  a  bad  investment.  It  was 
built  before  iron  was  brought  into  service,  and  at  a  time 
when  Ionic  and  Doric  temples  were  in  vogue.  The  plot 
thus  encumbered  could  now  be  covered  with  a  structure 
which  would  pay  the  interest  on  a  half  dozen  millions. 

But  a  truce  to  all  such  sordid  calculations.  They  may 
do  for  the  maddening  crowd  of  the  day,  but  not  for  the 
solemn  hour  of  night.  This  is  a  time  for  thought  and 
memory.  Just  opposite  stands  the  first  bank  established 
in  this  city  a  century  ago,  when  the  population  was  not 
over  thirty  thousand.  It  still  flourishes  on  the  same 
locality,  though  the  edifice  has  been  several  times  recon- 
structed, and  it  is  popularly  known  as  the  old  Bank  of 
New  York.  In  fact,  banks,  insurance  companies,  brokers 
and  law  offices  surround  us.     But  why  so  deathly  quiet 


604  OuE  Book. 

13  this  spot  which  only  a  few  hours  ago  was  rife  with 
tumult?  Wall  street  was  not  always  such  a  nocturnal 
solitude. 

There  was  a  time  when  it  was  the  abode  of  fashion  and 
the  scene  of  midnight  festivity.  Here  lived  the  famous 
Jauncey,  the  merchant  prince,  whose  stables  occupied  a 
plot  now  worth  a  million.  It  does  not  seem  a  great 
while  since  President  Monroe's  administration,  and  yet 
when  his  "grand  tour"  brought  him  to  this  city  he  was 
entertained  in  Wall  street  in  elegant  style.  Wall  street 
was  then  a  place  where  belles  and  beaux  flirted  in  Sum- 
mer afternoons  and  danced  in  long  Winter  evenings,  but 
now  how  changed! 

II. 

Twelve  o'clock !  I  have  been  pacing  this  porch  hour 
after  hour,  recalling  the  imj^ressive  associations  of  the 
spot.  The  enormous  columns,  thirty-eight  feet  in  heiglit, 
each  one  hewn  out  of  a  single  block  of  granite,  seem  stiU 
taller  in  the  gray  hue  of  midnight.  They  suggest 
thoughts  of  the  future.  Who  will  live  to  see  them  de- 
molished  ?  They  are  as  capable  of  endurance  as  the  Pan- 
theon of  Rome.  But  stop !  this  is  America,  and  they 
may  go  to  the  ground  within  ten  years  under  the  pressure 
of  modern  improvement.  While  these  thoughts  were 
pressing  upon  me,  I  was  approached  by  a  form  which  had 
a  human  shape,  and  though  I  could  not  make  out  the 
features  distinctly,  yet  they  evidently  were  of  a  favorable 
character,  and  I  was  glad  to  liear  a  friendly  voice. 

"  You  are  here  no  doubt  on  the  same  errand  with 
myself,"  was  the  stranger's  remark. 

"And  what  may  that  be,"  was  ray  reply. 

"  Well,  it  is  not  to  every  one  that  I  would  open  this 
matter,  but,  under  tlie  circumstances,  we  may  as  well  be 


Midnight  est  Wall  Street.  605 

plain.  I  am  a  stock  speculator  and  have  floated  up  and 
down  the  current  of  success  for  a  dozen  years  and  haven't 
yet  made  my  fortune." 

"  Do  you  ever  expect  to  ?  " 

"  Oh,  yes,  I  think  I  shall  lay  the  foundation  of  it  this 
very  night." 

"Why  to-night,  more  tlian  any  other?" 

"  Ah,  sir,  I  thought  you  were  here  on  the  same  errand, 
but  I  now  perceive  my  error ;  had  I  known  it  before  I 
should  have  been  more  careful  of  my  words.  Perhaps, 
however,  you  would  like  to  be  a  partner  in  the  affair  ? " 

"  What  affair,  sir  ? " 

"Why,  sir,  I  have  learned  lately  a  surprising  secret. 
How  I  learned  it  is  not  needful  to  tell,  but  the  fact  is 
there  is  one  night  in  the  year  when  strange  things  are  to 
be  seen  here  and  strange  things  are  to  be  learned.  One 
of  these  strange  things  is  the  proper  line  of  stocks  to  be 
followed  up ;  I  shall  to-night  get  my  cue  for  the  year." 

"  Please  explain,  sir,"  I  replied,  for  I  felt  inclined  to 
humor  the  fellow,  whose  vagaries  suited  the  weird  hour 
during  which  they  were  spoken. 

"  Well,  sir,  to  explain,  this  day  is  the  anniversary  of  the 
foundation  of  the  original  stock  board,  and  to-night,  pre- 
cisely at  twelve,  there  is  to  be  a  grand  procession  of  all 
the  old  speculators ;  that  is  those  that  are  dead.  They 
meet  in  the  vaults  of  the  Bank  of  New  York,  and  then 
form  in  broad  column,  marching  up  to  Broadway,  where 
they  are  reviewed  by  their  leader,  after  which  they 
march  down  to  the  bank  in  slow  step,  holding  solemn 
converse  on  the  great  questions  of  finance  and  arranging 
the  whole  destiny  of  the  street  for  a  year  to  come.  Who- 
ever gets  near  enough  to  hear  their  prophetic  words  may 
be  sure  to  make  his  fortune." 

"Is  that  possible?"  I    exclaimed,  astonished  at  the 


606  Our  Boos. 

strange  idea,  and  still  more  astonished  at  my  good  luck 
in  being  present  at  such  an  occasion. 

"  It  is  possible,"  was  the  reply,  to  enforce  which  the 
stranger  clapped  his  hand  on  my  shoulder,  adding,  "  and 
you,  sir,  shall  find  this  by  your  own  experience.  Look 
at  Balgrove,  who  has  made  such  a  big  thing  last  year  on 
Lake  Shore.  He  found  it  all  out  this  way,  watched 
every  night  for  six  months  till  the  time  came  round,  and 
then  made  his  strike." 

Hardly  had  the  stranger  completed  his  sentence  when 
the  broad  front  of  a  marching  column  broke  through  the 
darkness,  and,  indeed,  by  the  aid  of  the  moonlight,  we 
could  discern  the  forms  distinctly.  Some  of  them  wore 
antique  dresses,  which  recalled  the  days  of  Burr  and 
Hamilton,  while  others  were  of  later  style. 

"  See,  see,"  exclaimed  the  stranger,  "  there  is  Jacob 
Barker ;  how  much  would  I  give  for  what  he  held  in  his 
brain,  or  for  what  he  could  tell  us  now.  There  too  is 
R n.  He  made  a  quarter  million  on  Canton  com- 
pany alone.  I'd  like  to  know  what  his  notions  are  on 
Erie.     He  was  partner  with  old  uncle  Dannell  once." 

"  You  refer  to  the  old  house  of  D R &  Co.?" 

"  Certainly,  sir.  They  were  one  of  the  luckiest  con- 
cerns in  the  street.  There,  too,  is  John  W ,"  con- 
tinued the  stranger,  without  waiting  for  any  reply  to  his 

first  remark.     Yes  and  there  is  Jacob  L .     What  a 

great  man  he  was  in  his  day  —  failed  two  or  three  times 
after  all,"  he  added,  dropping  his  voice.  "  How  strange, 
how  strange." 

"  How  do  you  distinguish  the  lame  ducks  from  the 
successful  ?"  was  my  inquiry. 

"  There  is  but  little  difference  after  all,  that  is  in  the  long 
run,"  continued  the  stranger,  "  most  of  these  men  died 
poor.     There  are  few  exceptions,  such  as  some  of  those 


Midnight  in  Wall  Street.  607 

to  whom  we  have  referred,  but  of  the  rest  they  had  their 
ups  and  downs,  and  after  a  while  hick  finally  turned 
against  them.  Ah,  sir,  there's  lots  of  money  handled  in 
this  street,  but  there's  little  carried  out.  There  comes 
some  of  our  worst  lame  ducks.  You  will  notice  them  in 
a  sad  looking  group  on  the  left,  and  were  yon  near 
enough  you  would  see  that  a  few  bear  a  red  mark  upon 
the  breast,  indicating  that  they  committed  suicide." 

III. 

As  the  stranger  said  this  the  mysterious  procession 
drew  near.  Tlieir  steps  made  no  sound,  and  we  could 
hear  their  voices  while  they  communed  upon  the  great 
financial  questions  of  the  day. 

"  Hark,"  he  exclaimed,  "  now  they  are  on  Erie  and 
that's  my  fancy.     Listen  !  listen  ! ' ' 

"  What's  that  old  Jacob  said  ?  Did  you  hear  it  ?  It 
was  on  the  chance  of  a  put  at  thirty  days.  Listen  !  he's 
at  it  again.  I'll  try  that  if  it  takes  my  last  dollar,  and  if 
you  go  in  with  me  and  make  a  pool  we  can  come  out 
with  a  million." 

These  words  were  uttered  in  a  low  tone  which,  though' 
excited,  was  still  hardly  above  a  whisper. 

"  There,  too,  is  little  G ,  who  cut  such  a  swell  in 

bulhng  the  Central.  I'd  like  to  get  a  word  from  him. 
Let's  get  closer  by." 

So  saying  he  led  the  way  and  we  drew  very  near  the 
spectral  column.  "Step light,"  he  whispered;  "if  they 
catch  us  on  the  watch  it's  all  over  with  our  luck." 

The  stranger  drew  near  the  curbstone  and  strove  to 
hide  behind  a  deserted  apple-stand,  while  I  followed  just 
as  one  follows  a  leader,  without  caring  for  the  result. 
We  heard  some  confabulations  of  a  character  which 
seemed  to  thrill  my  companion. 


608  Our  Book. 

"  Try  to  remember,"  said  he ;  "  remember  for  your  life. 
How  I  wish  I  could  write  this  down.  What  did  he  say 
about  Michigan  Central  ?  by  Jove  I  lost  that ;  let  us  get 
nearer.' ' 

The  stranger  was  evidently  emboldened  by  his  success, 
for  he  emerged  from  his  retreat  and  crawled  toward  the 
column,  where  he  caught  some  sounds  that  to  me  were 
quite  unintelligible. 

"  I've  got  it,  I've  got  it,"  he  whispered  in  a  tone 
which,  owing  to  his  excited  condition  was  louder  than 
he  was  aware  of.  "I've  got  it.  Eureka!  ha!  ha! 
My  fortune's  made,  and  you  shall  have  half,  agreeably  to 
my  bargain.     What  a  lucky  fellow  you  are." 

I  was  at  once  aware  that  the  fellow  had  spoken  too 
soon  and  too  loud,  and  this  was  immediately  apparent 
from  the  result. 

A  nervous  looking  form,  which  was  twitching  with 
calculation,  started  at  the  sound  and  exclaimed,  "  What, 
ho  1  listeners  at  the  brokers'  march  —  then  bear  the 
penalty  I " 

The  speaker  stretched  his  arm  without  leaving  his 
place  and  attempted  to  seize  the  watcher,  but  the  latter 
moved  rapidly  backward  and  escaped  the  hand  of  the 
dead.  "  They  dare  not  break  ranks,"  said  he,  but  the 
alarm  was  at  once  spread  and  the  column  faded  out 
of  sight. 

As  the  last  rank  disajipeared  we  stood  together  alone. 
I  was  so  much  overcome  by  the  strange  scene  which  I 
had  just  witnessed  that  I  remained  in  silent  reverie, 
which  at  last  was  broken  by  the  voice  of  my  companion. 

"  Don't  let  us  stay  here  any  longer ;  the  watchman 
may  suspect  us.  Our  luck  is  too  good  to  be  marred  by 
any  thing  unpleasant.     Walk  up  street  with  me." 

I  acquiesced,  hardly  knowing  what  I   was  doing,  and 


Midnight  in  Wall  Street.  609 

thongii  my  companion  seemed  perfectly  seK-conscious,  he 
was  so  excited  that  his  very  tone  trembled. 

"You  may  consider  your  fortune  made,  sir,"  he  ex- 
claimed, "as  I  consider  mine.  'There  is  a  tide' as 
Shakespeare  says.  Enough  to  know  that  the  tide  has 
come.  For  thirteen  years  I  have  battled  with  adverse 
fortunes  in  this  very  Wall  street,  but  the  victory  soon 
will  be  on  my  side.  I  feel,  sir,  assured  that  Fortune  has 
now  honored  me  with  her  favor.  Did  you  hear  what  that 
old  fellow  said  ?  "  I  admitted  my  ignorance,  for  I  had 
heard  nothing  distinctly.  "  Well,  sir,  I  picked  up  enough 
to  see  how  things  are  going  to  shape,  and  I  can  lay  out 
my  plans  for  a  season's  work.  But  this  I  will  not  do  now, 
for  it  is  too  late.  Meet  me  to  morrow  at  ten  at  Shavely 
&  Co.'s,  in  Broad  street." 

As  he  said  this  the  stranger  left  me  and,  adding  a  hasty 

good  night,  darted  down  New  street,   while   I  walked 

thoughtfully  home,   I  could  sleep  but  little  that  night,  and 

when  I  caught  a  brief  doze  the  countenance  of  the  stranger 

flitted  before  me  with  a  peculiar  fascination.  The  sole  idea 

connected  with  him  was  money,  and  in  the  brief  dreams 

of  that  restless  night  he  seemed  a  very  Plutus holding  the 

keys  of  untold  treasures,  and  I  could  almost  hear  him 

exclaiming,  in  the  words  of  the  poet. 

Sir  Pertinax,  my  lofty,  again  I  say  to  thee,  be  rich ; 
This  day  thou  shalt  have  ingots. 

IV. 

In  the  jnoming,  at  the  appointed  time,  I  called  at 
Shavely's,  and  was  gratified  to  behold  the  stranger  there. 
This  was  proof  that  the  events  of  the  last  night  were  no 
dream.  He  bowed  with  a  knowing  look,  and  then,  with- 
out saying  a  word,  resumed  some  calculations  which  had 
been  occupying  his  attention.  On  gazing  round  the  office 
77 


610  Our  Book. 

I  perceived  that  Shavelj  &  Co.  paid  no  attention  to  me, 
but  this  occasioned  no  surprise  as  I  saw  that  others  came 
aud  went  unnoticed.  Some  of  these  had  an  eager  look 
and  glanced  hurriedly  at  quotations  and  then  went  off. 
They  were,  as  I  afterward  learned,  clerks  in  different  con- 
cerns who  stole  in  every  day  for  a  few  minutes  to  gaze  on 
the  markets  and  to  calculate  their  chances  of  a  strike. 

Many  of  these  fellows  had  saved  a  few  hundred  dollars 
and  had  hopes  by  some  lucky  hit  to  lay  the  foundation  for 
a  fortune.  Others  had  evidently  lost  their  little  capital 
and  were  lingering  around  as  though  still  fascinated  by 
the  excitement  which  had  lured  them  to  ruin.  Evidently 
they  were  dreaming  over  tlie  past  and  vainly  trying  to  re- 
call it.  The  stranger  continued  his  calculations,  and  this 
delay  gave  me  an  opportunity  to  examine  his  appearance. 
He  was  of  small  size  and  very  nervous  temperament.  His 
clothes  were  out  of  fashion,  and  their  threadbare  and  seedy 
aspect  was  strongly  in  contrast  with  that  of  the  finely- 
dressed  gentlemen  who  were  passing  in  and  out  continu- 
ally. It  was  evident  that  there  was  a  general  understand- 
ing in  reference  to  his  position,  for  each  seemed  to  glance 
at  him  and  then  at  each  other  with  a  look  of  general 
recognition,  and  from  this  I  inferred  that  he  was  a  man 
of  dubious  reputation. 

The  time  for  stock  operations  was  now  at  hand  and  a 
large  number  of  orders  had  been  handed  in.  The  senior 
partner,  Mr.  Sharper  Shavely,  put  on  his  hat  and  proceeded 
across  the  street  to  the  Exchange,  and  the  stranger,  who 
left  at  the  same  time,  beckoned  me  to  accompany  him. 
The  crowd  indicated  the  way,  and  all  we  had  to  do  was  to 
follow.  Having  ascended  one  flight  of  stairs  we  found  our- 
selves in  a  large  room  filled  with  a  heaving  and  tumultuous 
crowd.  A  fine  looking  gentleman  was  sitting  at  a  large 
desk  fronting  the  audience  and  calling  off  stocks,  while  a 


Midnight  in  Wall  Street.  611 

a  vociferous  range  of  bids  was  heard  in  every  direc- 
tion. 

Like  all  other  visitors  I  found  a  place  in  the  lobby, 
while  the  stranger  mingled  with  the  crowd  of  brokers  with 
a  look  of  importance  such  as  told  of  his  glowing  expecta- 
tions. While  the  less  important  stocks  were  called  off  Mr. 
Garsden,  for  such  was  his  name,  came  and  pointed  out 
several  of  the  most  interesting  members  of  the  board. 
"  That  plain-looking  man  who  sits  so  quietly  in  the  rear 

is  S .     He  has  made  a  fortune  of  more  than  a  million 

in  this  board."  "  How  has  he  been  so  successful,"  was 
our  inquiry  ? 

"  By  buying  first-class  stocks  at  a  low  figure  and  hold- 
ing them  for  an  advance.  He  never  speculates  in  the 
ordinary  sense  of  the  word,  but  simply  holds  for  an  advance 
which  in  due  time  comes  and  then  he  sells  and  pockets  a 
handsome  profit.  He  has  a  safe  full  of  stock  certificates 
in  the  vault  below." 

"  What  vault  ? " 

*'  Why  under  this  building  —  there  are  two  hundred 
safes,  each  let  for  seventy-five  dollars  per  year,  and  used 
by  these  brokers  to  keep  their  stocks  secure." 

"  Who  is  that  bright-eyed  young  man  that  is  bidding 
so  noisily  ? " 

«  That's  Charley  M ;  he  is  worth  $150,000." 

"  And  so  young?  " 

"  Young !  why  he's  twenty-four  !  " 

The  remark  caused  me  to  look  around,  and  I  was  at  once 
struck  with  the  youthful  appearance  of  most  of  the  mem- 
bers. They  were  very  much  excited,  and  as  their  counte- 
nances were  thus  lit  up  it  rendered  the  scene  one  of  intense 
interest. 

The  clamor  continued  to  increase,  and  at  times  the  con- 
fusion was  so  great  that  the  gavel  of  the  chairman  was 


612  Odk  Book. 

heard  calling  to  order.  This  confusion  grew  out  of  the 
rapidity  of  sales,  and  beneath  the  uproar  a  vast  amount 
of  business  was  transacted.  Such  at  least  was  the  state- 
ment made  by  Mr.  Garsden,  for  I  could  not  make  out 
what  these  crazy  fellows  were  about.  At  length  Erie  was 
called.  Twenty  men  jumped  to  their  feet  and  began  to 
bellow.  The  bids  flew  sharp  through  the  room,  40,  40^, 
40f ,  41 ;  "  42  buyer  60,"  squeaked  a  voice  by  my  side. 
It  was  that  of  Mr.  Garsden,  whom  I  saw  was  intensely 
excited.  "  They  wont  take  my  offer,  and  you  must  go 
my  security,  eh  ?  "  and  without  waiting  he  pointed  to  me 
in  a  significant  manner,  which  seemed  at  once  to  be  under- 
stood. My  name  is  somewhat  known  among  business  men, 
and  the  reference  seemed  satisfactory.  Mr.  Garsden  had, 
as  I  afterward  learned,  so  often  failed  in  his  contracts  that 
his  name  alone  was  not  considered  sufficient. 

"Forty-two,  buyer  sixty,"  was  exclaimed.  The  con- 
fusion became  worse,  and  I  was  puzzled  to  know  how 
men  in  such  a  condition  and  amid  such  a  din  could  under- 
stand each  other.  "  I  have  got  it,"  exclaimed  Garsden  in 
a  few  minutes — "  a  thousand  shares  —  that' s  glory  enougli 
for  one  day."  He  withdrew,  leading  me,  and  we  made 
our  way  to  the  desk,  where  a  contract  was  made,  and  we 
turned  our  steps  to  the  door.  As  we  were  going  out,  my 
companion  drew  me  closer  by  the  arm  and  began  a  con- 
versation in  a  low  tone. 

"  You  see,"  said  he,  "  they  were  a  little  aloof  in  taking 
my  bid.  The  fact  is  I  have  been  deuced  unfortunate,  and 
have  got  cleaned  out  several  times,  but  it's  all  right  now." 

"  How  is  that  ? "  was  my  inquiry. 

"  Why  a  thousand  Erie  at  42  on  sixty  days  is  a  first-rate 
beginning.  I'm  sure  of  five  thousand  advance  in  less  than 
a  fortnight.  That  will  do  to  commence  on.  We  don't 
want  to  make  too  big  a  stake  at  once." 


Midnight  in  Wall  Street.  613 

I  assented  to  the  latter  proposition,  but  asked  Mr.  Gars- 
den  for  his  authority  in  this  expectation. 

"Ah!  have  you  forgotten  last  night.  I  daren't  tell 
you  all  I  know,  but  I've  enough  to  make  all  sure.  We 
are  on  the  road  to  fortune  ! " 

V. 

Having  other  engagements  which  demanded  my  at- 
tention, I  left  Mr.  Garsden  and  proceeded  on  my  way 
with  many  strange  thoughts  perplexing  me.  I  had  been 
seen  in  the  Stock  Exchange  speculating,  a  fact  which  in 
itself  was  prejudicial  to  the  character  of  a  plain  West 
street  merchant,  and  1  had  in  a  thoughtless  moment 
allowed  myself  to  become  security  for  a  stock  contract. 
All  this  was  decidedly  unpleasant,  but  in  addition  to  it  I 
was  followed  by  a  presence,  strangely  felt,  and  this  mys- 
terious Garsden  was  continually  haunting  me  with  those 
fascinating  words,  "  Erie  42,  buyer  60." 

On  reaching  West  street  and  while  approaching  ray 
place  of  business,  I  met  my  friend  Morton,  who  smiled 
as  he  shook  hands  with  me  and  asked,  "how  things  were 
going  on  in  Wall  street  ?  " 

I  am  sure  I  must  have  colored  ;  at  least  I  felt  so.  It 
was  decidedly  embarrassing  to  be  so  quickly  detected. 

"  The  fact  is,  "  said  Morton,  "  I  want  some  paper  done 
and  would  like  to  know  what  is  the  pulse  of  the  street." 
This  explanation  relieved  my  mind  and  I  gave  him  such 
information  as  was  in  my  power,  and  passed  on.  I 
found,  however,  a  new  bugbear  had  arisen  in  my  breast. 
This  was  proved  when  my  bookkeeper,  Mr.  Jenkins,  told 
me  that  a  Wall  street  man  had  been  down  to  see  me.  I  was 
appalled  to  think  that  perhaps  it  had  been  Garsden,  but 
was  again  relieved  to  learn  that  the  individual  was  merely 
a  produce  broker  who  had  a  cargo  of  sugar  for  sale. 


614  Our  Book. 

The  day  passed  on  without  any  further  alanns,  but 
when  I  returned  home  at  night  my  vexatious  thoughts 
returned.  After  tea  my  wife  picked  up  the  paper  and 
glanced  over  the  contents.  "  What  a  strange  life  must 
that  of  a  stock  dealer  be,"  she  exclaimed.  "  Up  and  down, 
up  and  down  all  the  time.  I  am  so  glad,  Barclay  (Barclay 
Snowdon  is  my  name),  that  you  do  not  dabble  in  stocks." 

"  Some  men  make  fortunes  at  it,"  I  said. 

"  But  if  they  make,  do  not  others  lose  fortunes  ?  They 
cannot  both  make  money,  since  one  man's  gain  is  only 
what  the  other  loses.  So  I  suppose  it  will  be  in  this 
movement  in  Erie" — 

"  What  movement  in  Erie ! "  I  exclaimed,  snatching 
the  paper  convulsively  and  fixing  my  eye  on  the  money 
article  where  I  read  as  follows :  "  The  market  was  much 
excited  at  its  close,  especially  Erie,  in  which  a  heavy 
movement  was  made.  The  second  board  closed  buoyant 
at  45,  after  which  sales  were  made  at  50." 

A  rallying  power  of  thought  was  exerted.  I  crushed 
down  the  rising  excitement  and  handed  the  paper  back, 
though  as  I  did  so  I  could  hear  Garsden  squeaking  "  a 
thousand  shares  at  42,  buyer  CO." 

"  You  are  not  well,  Barclay,  I  perceive,"  said  my  wife 
in  the  course  of  a  few  minutes. 

"  As  well  as  usual,  my  dear,"  was  my  reply,  "perhaps 
a  little  weary  from  close  application,  but  an  air  on  the 
piano  will  bring  me  up." 

Ruth  immediately  opened  the  instrument  and  ran 
through  several  of  my  favorites,  but  their  melody  failed 
to  reach  the  soul,  and  was  in  fact  drowned  by  Garsden's 
inevitable  squeak.  My  wife  perceived  my  restless  frame, 
and  said  after  a  number  of  attempts  to  win  my  attention, 
"  Yon  were  out  late  last  night  and  if  we  retire  early  I 
hope  will  rest  well." 


Midnight  in  Wall  Street.  615 

In  this  hope  slie  was  mistaken ;  my  mind  was  too 
much  excited  to  permit  rest.  I  was  continually  calculat- 
ing the  profits  on  a  thousand  shares  of  Erie  and  then 
trying  to  guess  how  much  would  be  a  proper  share  for  my- 
self. It  was  a  question  whether  Garsden  would  report  at 
all,  for  as  a  general  thing  men  are  not  apt  to  call  for  a  settle- 
ment when  there  is  a  balance  against  them.  Such  a  train 
of  reasoning  could  not  be  of  a  sedative  nature,  nor  did  it 
tend  to  giving  one  an  appetite  for  breakfast.  I  was  com- 
pelled to  take  a  drink  of  bourbon  (though  this  is  contrary 
to  my  custom)  to  give  the  system  tone. 

The  stage  landed  me  opposite  Trinity  while  the  clock 
was  striking  nine  and  I  turned  down  Wall  street  with 
nervous  steps.  As  I  passed  Broad  street  I  could  not  but 
look  toward  Shavely  &  Co.'s,  and  while  doing  so  I  felt 
a  tap  on  my  shoulder,  and  turning  round  beheld  once 
more  the  mysterious  stranger.  "  Oh,  Mr.  Snowdon,  I 
have  been  on  the  lookout  for  you.  These  regular  busi- 
ness men  do  not  care  generally  to  have  any  one  know 
about  their  Wall  street  matters,  and  so  I  did  not  call  at 
your  store,  eh  ?  " 

I  assented  to  the  correctness  of  his  perception. 

"  You  can  find  me  at  Shavely' s  most  any  day,  and  that 
is  a  good  ]>lace  to  meet,  for  they  do  something  in  real 
estate  and  hence  you  can  drop  in  there  without  being 
necessarily  a  stock  operator.  By  the  way  you  would,  I 
suppose,  like  to  realize  on  that  matter  of  Erie.  I  sold 
that  lot  after  the  second  board  at  50,  and  now  it's  going  up 
higher." 

"  Sold  it,"  I  exclaimed,  "  why  did  you  not  hold  on  ? " 

"Why,  sir,  I  would  have  done  so,  but  your  regular 
business  men  have  a  general  rule  to  sell  when  you  can 
realize  a  profit,  and,  therefore,  I  sold  more  on  your  ac- 
count than  mine.  Had  it  fallen  1  miorht  have  been  blamed 


616  OuE  Book. 

for  not  working  it  off  my  bands.     As  for  profits,  I  sup- 
pose one-half  will  satisfy  you." 

As  Mr.  Garsden  said  this  he  put  into  my  hand  a  check 
on  the  Bank  of  New  York  for  four  thousand  dollars  —  at 
the  same  time  adding,  "  I  got  Jones  to  issue  that  check 
in  exchange  for  currency,  but  the  time  is  soon  coming 
when  I  shall  keep  bank  account  myself." 

VI. 

"  That  will  do  for  a  beginning,"  said  he.  "  For  years  I 
have  been  hanging  around  this  street,  making  but  a  dog's 
living.  I  have  been  a  curb-stone  man  and  a  gutter  snipe, 
and  had  at  last  made  enough  to  get  elected  to  the  regular 
board,  hoping  to  make  a  strike  there.  I  have  just  kept 
from  starving,  and  my  family  has  suffered  more  than  any 
one  knows,  but  a  change  has  now  come,  and  this  is  the 
beginning  of  fortune.  Shall  we  continue  to  operate 
together  ?     Two  heads  are  better  than  one  ? " 

"I  will  let  you  know,"  was  my  reply,  and  we  parted. 
I  walked  with  nervous  stride  across  to  West  street  gazing 
occasionally  at  the  piece  of  paper,  which  I  had  been 
clutching  in  my  hand,  and  when  1  reached  the  store  I 
opened  it  to  a  full  and  satisfactory  gaze.  There  could  be 
no  dream  there,  it  was  a  carefully  filled  out  check  for  four 
thousand  dollars.  While  I  was  gazing  on  this  marvellous 
paper  the  clock  struck  ten,  and  I  immediately  walked  over 
to  the  bank  and  had  it  cashed  —  forty  bank  notes,  each 
one  hundred  dollars.  I  counted  them  and  walked  back  to 
the  oflSce. 

It  was  a  larger  sum  than  I  had  made  in  any  single 
speculation,  for,  although  I  was  doing  what  is  called  a  fair 
business,  my  profits  were  generally  light,  and  to  make 
money  required  an  incessant  and  laborious  activity  of 
trade.     As  I  entered  the  store  a  broker  in  coffee  made  me 


Midnight  in  Wall  Street.  6l7 

an  ofter  for  an  invoice  of  Rio.  The  sale  was  for  cash, 
which  was  desirable,  but  the  rate  of  profit  struck  me  as 
contemptible.  It  was  a  quarter  of  a  cent  per  pound.  The 
lot  was  one  hundred  and  sixty  bags.  On  the  entire  lot  I 
would  make  sixty  dollars.  For  this  trifling  sum  I  had 
purchased,  carted  in,  advertised,  insured,  paid  rent,  clerk 
hire  and  now  brokerage.  It  was  certainly  rather  small 
business,  especially  as  my  partner  must  have  one-half  of 
it.  On  the  other  band,  by  simply  spending  an  hour  with 
Garsden  I  had  cleared  more  than  I  should  make  on  the 
coffee  trade  of  a  year. 

Business  was  active,  but  the  limited  rate  of  its  profits 
annoyed  me,  and  I  confess  I  was  continually  wondering 
what  Garsden  was  about  that  day.  He  was  no  doubt 
operating  in  stocks.  What  could  have  been  his  success  ? 
His  mysterious  history  kept  working  upon  my  mind  ;  my 
acquaintance  with  him  in  the  str€?et  and  the  strange  secret 
which  he  had  obtained  formed  a  puzzling  mystery.  Could 
it  be  true  that  he  had  the  keys  to  wealth  ?  If  so  I  should 
do  .well  to  keep  up  the  connection  which  had  begun  so 
auspiciously. 

At  two  o'clock  I  made  my  bank  account,  depositing  over 
six  thousand  dollars  in  the  North  River  Bank.  It  was  a 
large  deposit  for  me,  and  the  teller  seemed  to  notice  it. 
He  ran  over  the  forty  notes  to  which  I  have  referred  and 
passed  them  to  my  credit,  and  as  he  did  so  I  said  to  my- 
self, "  why  did  not  Garsden  make  his  purchase  two  thou- 
sand shares  instead  of  one  thousand.  In  that  case  I  might 
have  deposited  eighty  of  these  bills  instead  of  forty.  It 
was  only  a  suggestion,  but  it  caused  an  annoyance.  I 
came  home  at  night  in  a  frame  unusually  nervous, 
which  Ruth  noticed,  for  she  could  always  read  my  feel- 
ings. 

"How  is  business?"  she  inquired,  as  she  poured  out 
78 


618  Our  Book. 

my  last  cup  of  tea  —  the  first  two  having  thrown  a  glow 
over  all  things. 

"  Good,"  I  replied,  referring  to  the  coffee  transaction 
among  others.  "  Sixty  dollars,"  exclaimed  Ruth,  "  in  one 
sale ;  you  will  surely  now  be  able  to  buy  one  of  those 
pretty  pictures  of  Swiss  scenery  that  we  saw  at  Knoel- 
ler's." 

"  Buy  it  if  you  will,  my  child,"  said  I,."  and  perhaps  we 
may  indulge  our  tastes  to  a  still  greater  degree  if  I  have 
all  the  success  I  expect." 

"  Then  you  hope  for  a  better  trade  than  usual  ?  Well, 
to  get  on  little  by  little,  safe  and  sure,  that  pleases  me 
better  than  speculation.  Indeed,  I  never  should  rest  were 
I  the  wife  of  a  speculator." 

YU. 

The  evening  passed  in  a  rather  dull  manner.  Ituth 
looked  over  the  money  article  and  noticed  the  advance  in 
Erie.  "Only  think,"  said  she,  "yesterday  42,  to-day 
63." 

"  What  a  chance  !  "  I  exclaimed,  starting  up,  though 
under  an  irresistible  impulse,  "  to  make  a  fortune  ! " 

"  How  much  these  poor  fellows  lose  who  sell  short,  as 
you  term  it.  It  must  be  hard  to  pay  such  difference,  and 
then  how  it  must  pinch  their  families.  I  should  always 
think  of  this  if  I  made  any  thing  in  stocks." 

Ruth  said  this  in  a  saddened  tone.  I  made  no  reply, 
for  the  four  thousand  dollars  rose  in  my  throat ;  why  did 
I  not  at  once  own  up  all  that  I  had  done  instead  of  keep- 
ing a  fatal  secret  in  my  breast  ? 

Passing  over  this  night  without  further  remark  I  went 
down  street  next  morning  and  by  some  strange  fascination 
my  steps  turned  away  from  their  customary  beat  until 
they  again  led  me  past  the  office  of  Shavely  &  Co.     Gars- 


Midnight  in  Wall  Stkeet.  619 

den  was  on  the  steps  pacing  to  and  fro  with  the  appearance 
of  one  walking  against  time.  "  Aha,"  he  exclaimed,  as  I 
approached ;  "  the  very  man  I  was  hoping  to  see.  In  fact 
had  I  not  met  you  now  I  should  have  had  to  come  down 
to  your  office  though  it  be  against  rule  —  more  luck  in  the 
wind." 

"  What  now,"  I  inquired,  with  a  flush  which  Garsden 
could  not  fail  to  read  and  understand. 

"  I  see,"  said  he,  "you  begin  to  take  a  little  interest  in 
Wall  street  matters.  By  and  by  you  will  become  a  first 
class  stock  operator  (I  thought  of  Ruth  and  turned  pale, 
as  I  believe,  at  these  words)  ;  luck  is  turning,  sir,  as  Shake- 
speare says  about  flood  tide  carrying  a  man  right  up." 

I  made  no  answer,  for  the  thought  of  Kuth  made  me 
sad.  Mr.  Garsden  continued,  and  as  he  did  so  I  had  leisure 
to  observe  that  he  had  a  new  neck-tie  and  an  appearance 
decidedly  improved  since  yesterday. 

"Why,  sir,  it  has  got  round  what  we  did  yesterday,  or 
rather  what  I  did,  for  your  name  is  not  mentioned,  and 
they  are  having  more  confidence  in  me,  though  I  haven't 
said  a  word  about  that  night.  We  are  making  a  pool  and 
now  for  a  strike  on  Pacific  Mail,  I  have  put  in  all  I 
liave  in  the  world,  three  thousand  seven  hundred  and 
sixty  dollars,  the  rest  having  been  spent  to  take  some 
things  out  of  pledge  and  pay  rent ;  this  is  between  you 
and  I." 

"  Who  is  in  the  ring  ?  "  was  my  inquiry. 

"  Sinie  Shavely,  little  Rinks,  Isaacs  the  Jew,  myself 
your  neighbor  Gumberly." 

"Gumberly,"  I  exclaimed  with  surprise,  for  Gumberly 
was  one  of  our  most  staid  and  old-fashioned  grocers,  and 
was  the  last  man  I  would  have  dreamed  of  as  operating 
in  stocks. 

"Yes,  Matthias  Gumberly;  but  that's  a  Wall  street 


620  Our  Book. 

secret,  and  of  course  is  safe  in  your  hands,  Gmnberly 
has  made  some  fine  hits.  The  Yanderbilt  move  in  New 
York  Central  put  $5,000  in  his  pocket." 

These  words  awoke  an  unpleasant  reminiscence,  for  one 
of  my  friends  had  lost  his  house  in  that  same  operation, 
being  unfortunately  on  the  wrong  side. 

I  was  recalled  from  this  train  of  thoughts  by  Garsden's 
nervous  words,  "How  much  will  you  put  in?" 

"  I  will  tell  you  in  an  hour,"  was  my  reply. 

"  Won't  do,"  said  Garsden  ;  "  a  half-hour  at  the  longest. 
I'm  fretting  myself  to  death  waiting  for  the  board  to 
open,  and  if  you  go  in  the  pool  I  want  you  along  as  a 
backer.     I  can't  go  alone  yet." 

The  thought  was  an  unwelcome  one  to  be  seen  again  in 
the  stock  board,  but  if  once,  twice  could  be  of  no  great 
harm. 

"  I  will  be  back,"  said  I,  "  as  soon  as  I  go  to  the  store 
and  see  what  the  mail  brings."  So  saying  I  walked 
hurriedly  along.  As  I  entered  I  found  a  boy  from  Skiddy's 
office  with  a  message  that  a  fresh  cargo  of  New  Orleans 
molasses  was  sampled  and  ready  for  sale.  But  although 
I  was  the  buyer  I  had  no  tune  to  attend  to  this  matter. 

I  walked  into  the  office,  looked  at  letters,  gave  some 
orders  to  my  clerk,  exchanged  a  few  words  with  my  part- 
ner, Mr.  Tiinberjoke,  who  was  selling  goods,  tore  out  a 
blank  check  and  walked  \\])  to  Broad  street,  endeavoring 
to  make  up  my  mind  how  much  it  should  be  filled  up  for. 

1  had  made  four  thousand  dollars.  At  first  I  thought 
of  risking  the  whole,  but  then  that  would  seem  too 
hazardous. 

"  Let  it  be  one-half,"  said  my  calmer  judgment,  and 
stepping  into  a  stationer's  I  filled  it  up  for  two  thousand 
dollars.  "Now  walk  with  me,"  said  Garsden,  coming 
down  from  the  steps  to  meet  me,  "  the  pool  is  made  up 


Midnight  in  Wall  Street.  C21 

and  we  have  forty  thousand  dollars  in  ;  yours  makes  forty- 
two  thousand.  We  buy  on  a  margin  of  ten  per  cent, 
which  will  allow  us  to  handle  about  a  half  million  of 
stock.  Each  man  has  a  pro  rata  interest.  Come  along,  I 
say  !  " 

VIII. 

We  were  walking  pretty  fast,  but  Garsden  in  his  ex- 
citement moved  still  faster.  "  I  haven't  forgot  what  the 
old  man  said  that  night,''^  he  whispered,  clutching  the 
muscle  of  my  arm.  "  I  shall  put  it  to  'em,  but  gently  at 
first.     We  must  keep  cool !  " 

So  saying,  he  ascended  the  stairs  two  steps  at  a  time 
and  upset  a  basket  of  apples,  hardly  giving  me  time  to 
hand  the  old  man  who  sold  them  a  greenback  by  way  of 
satisfaction.  We  took  our  places  and  I  entered  into  the 
spirit  of  the  scene  with  a  glow  of  self-satisfaction  which 
was  in  no  small  degree  due  to  the  prestige  of  my  friend. 

I  watched  each  motion  like  one  intent  to  learn,  and 
tried  through  the  clamor  and  tumult  to  make  out  what 
was  going  on.  The  stocks  were  rapidly  called,  and  the 
transactions  were  rapid  and  very  large.  At  length  the 
Pacific  Mail  was  called,  and  in  an  instant  the  swift  bids 
were  heard  "48,48^,49."  All  eyes  were  fixed  on  the 
bidder,  and  that  bidder  was  Garsden,  as  anyone  might 
have  known  from  his  nervous  squeak,  and  as  he  men- 
tioned five  hundred  shares  he  pointed  again  to  me.  So  I 
was  once  more  publicly  marked  as  a  stock  operator,  but 
I  must  confess  the  distinction  ceased  to  be  painful. 

I  felt  a  delightful  flow  of  blood  and  an  increase  of 
nervous  activity  such  as  follow  champagne  drinking,  and 
under  its  influence  I  did  not  sufficiently  value  my  position 
as  one  of  the  solid  men  of  West  street.  When  Garsden's 
bid  for  Pacific  Mail  was  noted,  I  essayed  to  depart,  but 


022  Our  Book. 

I  Iieard  a  confused  and  increased  shouting,  and  before  I 
left  the  door  I  found  it  had  gone  to  5'). 

I  had  agreed  to  meet  my  friend  at  Shavely's  at  4 
o'clock  and  then  walked  down  to  the  store.  The  latter 
looked  very  dull  and  unattractive.  There  were  several 
purchasers  there  and  Tiraberjoke  was  making  large  sales, 
but  tliis  failed  to  interest  me,  so  I  concluded  to  go  over 
to  Skiddy's  and  look  at  the  molasses.  While  on  my  way 
new  perplexities  haunted  me.  The  question  arose  when 
would  Garsden  realize  on  our  new  purchase  ?  What  price 
would  it  bring  ?  How  much  would  I  clear  for  my  share? 
And  then  came  the  very  annoying  thought  that  having 
reduced  my  quota  from  my  first  plan,  I  had  in  that  same 
degree  cut  off  my  profits.  I  had  put  in  but  two  thousand  ; 
why  liad  1  not  made  it  four  thousand,  as  I  designed  at 
first  ?  With  these  tlioughts  preying  on  me  I  entered 
Skiddy's  office,  and  on  inquiry  about  the  molasses  found 
that  a  ring  had  been  made  up  to  take  the  cargo, 
and  that  1  was  a  half-hour  too  late  to  have  my  name 
inserted.  I  was  at  first  a  little  nettled  at  this,  but  my 
other  schemes  rcturing  upon, me  I  was  half  glad  it  was 
gone,  as  I  was  in  no  mood  for  common  business.  Just 
as  I  was  turning  to  depart  I  heard  Skiddy's  voice  (and  we 
all  know  how  pleasantly  Frank  can  speak),  uttering  as 
follows : 

"  Snowdon,  they  say  you  made  a  nice  thing  in  Erie 
tother  day ;  that's  enough  without  molasses." 

"  IIow?"     I  exclaimed  in  astonishment. 

"  O,  nothing,  there  was  some  such  report  afloat,  and  I 
thought  I  would  give  you  a  chance  to  contradict  it.  You 
know  how  it  affects  credit." 

I  did  know  how  it  affected  credit  and  I  could  not  deny 
it.  Skiddy  noticed  the  emotion  and  very  kindly  hesitated 
to  add  any  thing  to  an  unwelcome  theme. 


MroNiGHT  IN  Wall  Street.  623 

"The  cargo  of  the  Juneatte  will  be  unloaded  day  after  to- 
morrow," said  he.  "  Suppose  we  put  you  down  for  fifty 
hogsheads  at  the  same  price  the  rest  bring." 

"All  right,"  I  replied,  and  then  turned  toward  my  store 
with  a  peculiar  consciousness  of  a  loss  of  business  character. 
My  stock  of  goods  was  broken,  and  I  had  depended  on  the 
purchase  which  I  had  just  lost  to  make  it  good.  It  was 
a  marked  disappointment  to  Mr.  Timberjoke,  who  men- 
tioned that  several  oj)portunities  of  selling  large  bills  had 
been  lost  for  want  of  an  assortment.  The  store,  as  I 
entered,  again  seemed  to  have  lost  its  former  bright  and 
interesting  appearance.  The  chests  of  tea,  the  tiers  of 
coffee,  casks  of  sugar,  and  even  the  furniture  of  the  office 
looked  unattractive.  I  sat  at  my  desk  "  mechanically," 
as  they  say,  and  my  eye  fell  upon  a  pile  of  business  letters. 
They  were  of  varied  character,  and  exliibited  the  usual 
variety  of  a  business  correspondence. 

Some  contained  orders  for  goods,  others  told  of  defects 
and  mistakes  in  previous  orders,  and  asked  for  deduction. 
A  few  contained  remittances,  while  one  announced  a  bank- 
ruptcy of  a  concern  against  which  we  had  a  heavy  account. 
The  writer  (our  attorney)  mentioned  the  general  character 
of  the  failure,  and  added  that  not  over  fifty  cents  could 
be  collected  on  the  dollar.  I  called  to  the  clerk  to  enter 
the  orders  and  then  read  my  lawyer's  letter  again. 
The  account  was  over  $1,500  and  at  fifty  cents  on  the 
dollar  our  loss  would  be  at  least  $750. 

A  train  of  reasoning  inmiediately  passed  through  my 
brain  of  a  nature  like  this :  Lost  seven  hundred  and  fifty 
dollars  on  a  transaction  of  double  that  amount.  Profits 
on  that  transaction,  had  the  bill  been  paid,  not  $100,  but 
now  a  net  loss  of  $650.  To  make  this  up  six  thousand 
dollars  worth  of  goods  must  be  bought,  carted  to  store,  sold, 
deUvered  and  the  bills  collected.     And  this  is  business  1 


624  Our  Book. 

Turning  from  this  train  of  false  reasoning  my  eje  lit 
on  a  paragraph  in  the  daily  paper  to  the  following  effect : 
"  The  movement  in  Pacific  Mail  yesterday  was  of  a  bold  and 
decisive  character.  It  is  evident  that  this  stock  is  now  a 
favorite  and  that  all  that  is  required  is  time.  A  few 
weeks  indeed  may  bring  it  up  to  its  former  distinguished 
value.  It  is  expected  that  to-day's  board  will  witness  a 
farther  advance. 

Clutching  the  paper  and  thrusting  it  into  my  pocket  I 
requested  the  bookkeeper  to  look  after  the  office  and  fill 
up  checks  for  the  notes  due  that  day,  after  which  I  left 
the  store  in  an  agitated  frame.  As  I  passed  Judson  & 
Co.  I  overtook  the  veteran  merchant  John  Palmer,  walk- 
ing with  a  young  companion,  and  a  fragment  of  their 
conversation  fell  on  my  ear. 

"  I  wonder,  Mr.  Palmer,"  said  the  latter,  "  why  you 
never  try  your  hand  at  stocks  ;  there  has  been  a  heap  of 
money  made  there  of  late." 

"  Stocks  1 "  exclaimed  the  old  gentleman  with  a  smile. 
"  That  is  not  my  line.  I  was  born  to  be  a  plodder,  not  a 
speculator,  or  rather  not  a  gambler.  I  have  seen  enough 
of  this  making  haste  to  be  rich  to  know  that  it's  dan- 
gerous ! " 

"  Dangerous,  perhaps,  to  some,"  rejoined  the  com- 
panion, but  not  to  a  veteran  like  yourself  1 ' ' 

"  Veterans  have  their  weak  points  as  well  as  other  peo- 
ple, and  indeed  if  I  had  not  avoided  the  stock  market  I 
should  not  have  become  a  veteran.  My  rule  has  been  to 
stick  to  trade  as  long  as  it  will  support  me,  and  when  I 
can  no  longer  get  a  living  at  it  I  may  try  the  stock  mar- 
ket —  not  till  then  ! " 

There  was  an  unwelcome  commentary  on  my  conduct 
in  these  words,  whose  power  I  could  not  deny,  but  shaking 
o£E  the  reproof  I  j)assed  the  pair  and  soon  myself  relieved  of 


MroNiGHT  IN  Wall  Street.  G25 

their  voices.  I  met  crowds  of  busy  men,  such  as  mer- 
cliants,  clerks,  porters  aud  cartmen,  all  of  whom  seemed 
cheerful,  though  many  looked  overworked.  "  Why  do 
not  these  men,"  thought  I,  "  try  their  hand  in  Wall  street  ? 
They  might  get  a  lift  there  which  would  help  them  won- 
derfully." 

IX. 

I  had  at  first  shaped  my  course  to  a  tea  sale,  or  at  least 
to  examine  samples  of  the  sale  to  come  off  on  the  next 
day,  but  by  some  irresistible  magnetism  I  was  drawn  to- 
ward Broad  street,  and  found  myself  soon  confronted  by 
Garsden.  Ilisface  was  wreathed  with  smiles,  and  he  had 
a  kindly  patronizing  air  which  well  befitted  his  words, 

"  I  have  been  looking  for  you  for  half  an  hour.  The 
pool  has  just  divided,  and  you  are  in  for  $2,500  ;  mine  is 
$5,000 ;  Rinks  has  the  same,  and  the  Jew  gets  $10,000. 
What  a  lucky  old  Hebrew  he  is?  Come  in,"  he  added, 
"  and  get  your  funds." 

I  followed  him  into  Shavely's  ofiice  and  found  a  cer- 
tified check  awaiting  me  for  the  amount  above  mentioned, 

"  You  should  have  had  twice  as  much,"  said  Garsden, 
"and  would  have  had  it  were  it  not  for  your  foolish  cau- 
tion. Caution  is  all  very  well,  but  there  are  times  when 
it's  as  dangerous  as  at  other  times  it  is  useful.  It's  all 
nonsense  to  be  cautious  when  fortune  is  ready  to  fall  into 
one's  pocket.     The  chance  was  open  before  you  " 

"  And  lost !  "  I  responded  in  a  self -reproachful  tone. 

"  Oh  no ! "  said  he,  "  not  lost.  That  occasion  was  in 
fact  but  a  lesson  to  lead  to  something  better.  Your 
chance  is  now  better  than  ever.  Listen  to  me,"  he  added 
in  a  subdued  but  earnest  tone,  at  the  same  time  drawing 
me  aside.  "  We  are  now  in  the  midst  of  a  time  of  great 
excitement,  and  the  most  splendid  success  is  within  reach, 
79 


626  Our  Book. 

All  that  is  wanted  is  nerve.  You  have  made  something ; 
but  what  are  a  few  thousand  dollars  to  a  man  of  your 
ambition  ?  You  can  have  a  hundred  thousand  as  well  as 
five." 

"  Do  you  believe  it  ?  "  I  exclaimed  with  undisguised 
astonishment. 

"  /  hnow  it"  was  the  reply.  "  Just  see  how  stocks  arc 
moving,  and  this  is  nothing  to  what  is  coming  next  week. 
Tliere  is  a  harvest  ahead  for  all  who  have  nerve  to  reap  it ! " 

"  Explain  yourself  a  little  more  definitely,"  said  I, 
endeavoring  to  hush  my  excited  frame. 

"  Why,  sir,"  replied  Mr.  Garsden,  "  three  pools  are 
now  made  up  to  move  tliree  of  the  heaviest  stocks  in  the 
street.  One  of  them  is  Erie  ;  another  is  Pacific  Mail, 
and  the  third  is  Western  Union.  Whoever  has  a  chance 
here  is  sure  to  make  a  big  strike." 

"  And  you  mean  to  say  there's  room  for  me?" 

"  I  have  just  saved  you  room,  and  your  share  is 
$20,000  ? " 

"  More  money  than  I  can  raise  —  that  is,  without  sell- 
ing out  my  store." 

"  Then  sell  out  the  store.  There's  no  use  of  handling 
groceries,  and  making  perhaps  $5,000  in  a  year,  when  you 
can  clear  twenty  times  as  much." 

"  I  cannot  give  up  my  regular  business,"  said  I  in  an 
uncertain  tone,  which  indicated  that  I  was  half  disposed 
to  do  so. 

"  Well,  then,  give  us  what  you  can.  We  will  keep 
your  share  good  and  advance  the  funds  for  you.  To- 
morrow we  strike  home." 

At  that  moment  I  caught  a  glimpse  of  my  friend  Bar- 
ton, the  dry  goods  jobber,  who  came  up  and  shook  hands. 

"  How  odd  it  is,"  said  he,  "  that  a  man  must  explain 
why  he  is  in  Wall  street !  " 


Midnight  in  Wall  Sikeet.  627 

"  And  what  is  your  apology  \  "     I  added. 

"  Well,"  said  he,  "I  suppose  I  can  trust  you  with  a 
secret,  and  a  man  must  tell  somebody.  I've  been  speculat- 
ing with  my  wife's  money  —  the  $3,000  left  her  by  her 
bachelor  uncle  —  and  I've  made  double  on  it  in  a  week." 

"  But  what  effect  does  it  have  on  your  business 
habits  ?  "     I  inquired,  earnestly. 

"  Oh,  none  !  "  was  the  reply.  "  I  don't  let  such  things 
affect  me  at  all.  Some  men  might  get  excited  about  it, 
but  I  can  job  goods  all  the  morning,  and  then  look  in  at 
my  broker's  for  a  few  moments,  and  go  back  again  to  the 
store." 

As  he  said  this  he  bowed  pleasantly  and  was  soon  lost 
in  the  crowd,  while  I  stood  entranced  by  thought. 

"  Here,"  said  I  to  myself,  "  is  at  least  one  of  my  own 
acquaintance  who  can  add  to  his  regular  business  a  flyer 
into  the  stock  market.  Some  men  are  so  constituted  that 
they  can  endure  more  excitement  than  others.  Weak- 
nerved  people  should  be  careful  where  they  place  their 
feet,  but  a  clear  head  and  a  stout  heart  may  obey  the  im- 
pulses of  ambition. 

X. 

While  thus  musing  the  day  waned,  and  I  was  aroused 
by  the  bell  striking  three.  Hurrying  to  the  store,  I  glanced 
over  the  cash-book  and  noticed  the  receipts.  There  was 
enough  to  meet  our  notes,  and  another  glance  at  the  sale- 
buok  showed  that  a  large  business  had  been  done.  The 
store  had  a  busy  look,  and  my  partner,  who  attended  to 
the  sales,  reminded  me  that  coffees,  indigo,  tobacco  and 
teas  were  wanted  immediately  to  keejj  the  stock  up.  "  You 
will  not  forget  the  tea  sale  to-morrow,"  he  added. 

Was  it  possible  that  he  perceived  my  need  of  such  a 
reminder?  The  fact  was  I  had  not  thought  of  it,  and 
the  catalogue  had  not  been  examined. 


C28  OuK  Book. 

"I  have  been  busy  to-day,"  said  I,  "and  upon  the  whole 
I  will  pay  Case  a  brokerage  to  buy  for  me.  As  for  the 
coffee  and  other  goods,  you  know  what  our  trade  requires. 
Just  buy  for  a  day  or  two  small  lots  where  you  can  pick 
them  up." 

After  leaving  the  store,  I  took  a  long  walk,  for  I  did 
not  wish  to  go  home  too  soon  fearing  that  my  countenance 
might  reveal  more  than  I  desired.  Besides  tliis,  I  am 
obh'ged  to  confess  an  increased  repugnance  toward  making 
Ruth  my  confidant.  After  once  more  traversing  Broad 
street,  which  by  this  time  was  deserted,  I  reached  my 
dwelling  and  found  my  wife  neatly  dressed  and  awaiting 
my  arrival.  A  kiss,  and  then  a  few  happy  words  to  let 
off  the  outburst  of  affection. 

"  Tea  is  ready,"  she  said  and  as  she  led  into  the  room 
a  few  fiuwers  graced  the  table  and  filled  the  place  with 
fragrance.  This  would  under  ordinary  circumstances  have 
attracted  my  notice  and  called  forth  a  suitable  response, 
but  I  made  no  reference  to  the  cheery  room  or  any  other 
of  the  niceties  of  the  occasion  and  actually  felt  an  un- 
pleasantness at  home  life. 

It  was  too  tame  for  one  who  had  been  so  excited,  but  a 
reaction  soon  came,  bringing  extreme  weariness.  I  re- 
tired, fell  asleep,  and  for  at  least  three  hours  slr.mbered 
soundly.  Then  came  a  period  of  wakefulness  which 
brought  all  of  the  schemes  of  the  previous  day  before  me, 
and  I  slept  no  more.  Such  a  person  could  only  arise  in 
a  feverish  frame  and  with  a  diminished  appetite.  A 
strong  draught  of  coffee,  several  times  repeated,  and  fol- 
lowed by  a  still  stronger  stimulant  gave  me  tone,  and 
then  I  bade  m}'^  wife  good  morning  without  my  usual 
cheerfulness.  Poor  creature,  she  evidently  knew  I  was 
ill  at  ease,  but  her  delicacy  forbade  that  close  enquiry  which 
might  have  probed  the  secret. 


Midnight  iiv  Wall  Strkkt.  6^9 

I  made  my  way  to  the  store  and  looked  over  matters, 
and  then  waited  for  the  arrival  of  ten  o'clock.  Letters 
were  read,  samples  were  examined  and  the  routine  of  busi- 
ness was  gone  through,  but  my  heart  was  not  there.  At 
ten  I  was  on  the  way  to  Broad  street,  where  Garsden  was 
waiting  for  me.  "  You  are  in  time,"  said  he,  "  to  go  in 
and  see  the  movement."  We  walked  together  to  the  Stock 
Exchanorc  and  minorledin  the  crowd  that  entered.  At  the 
door  I  took  ray  place  as  usual  in  the  lobby,  while  Gars- 
den entered  the  brokers'  arena. 

The  scene  was  already  exciting,  but  it  increased  with 
rapid  bewilderment.  Noises  of  an  indescribable  character 
arose  from  the  mob,  which,  inside  the  railing,  was  con- 
tending for  success.  The  confusion  was  rendered  more 
ap])arent  and  striking  by  the  pale  and  nervous  forms  of 
those  who  were  losing,  while  the  lucky  ones  were  inspired 
by  their  success  to  a  glee  which  resembled  that  of  lunacy. 
They  capered  round  with  fantastic  motions  and  showed 
their  delight  in  puerile  and  ridiculous  manifestations. 

I  heard  much  but  understood  little.  Garsden  however 
occasionally  came  to  the  railing  to  tell  of  his  success.  He 
was  thoroughly  alive  to  the  importance  of  the  occasion 
and  was  operating  with  a  degree  of  boldness  which  ex- 
ceeded all  his  former  calculations.  Many  others  were 
attracted  by  his  success,  and  he  had  become  the  centre  of 
a  group  of  admirers.  He  had  extended  his  purchases 
vastly  and  as  the  market  rose  his  courage  increased.  With 
this  his  countenance  changed,  and  the  fire  that  lit  his  eye 
was  suggestive  of  all  manner  of  vagaries. 

During  the  scene  I  lost  all  consciousness  of  my  business 
and  sat  like  one  entranced.  What  was  the  grocery  trade 
to  such  a  day  as  this  ?  Fortunes  had  been  made  by  some 
and  lost  by  others.  Many  went  home  mined  while  mush- 
room capitalists  danced  for  joy  and  were  altnost  frenzied 


630  Our  Book. 

by  the  ecstacy  of  profit.  Our  ring  had  been  among  the 
most  successfuh  Over  a  liundred  thousand  dollars  had 
been  cleared,  "  You  see,"  said  Garsden,  "  what  comes  of 
following  the  directions  of  the  old  man.  It  was  that 
night  that  unfolded  the  secret.  I  might  have  made  a 
million  as  well  as  a  tenth  of  that  sura.  All  that  we  now 
lack  is  nerve.  Grant  ns  this  and  the  avenues  of  wealth 
are  ours."  Wealth  beyond  the  dreams  of  something  or 
other  —  ha !  ha  !  "  Wealth  beyond  the  dreams  of  avarice." 
I  replied  supplying  the  sentence  —  but  not  yielding  to  the 
laugh.     I  was  too  deeply  excited  to  even  smile. 

To  have  cleared  ten  thousand  dollars  was  enough  to 
make  any  one  nervous.  One  thing  was  certain,  I  had  lost 
my  ordinary  disposition  for  trade,  and  indeed  there  seemed 
little  to  regret  in  this.  Having  proved  by  experience  that 
the  secret  of  wealth  had  been  discovered  on  that  eventful 
night,  I  determined  to  sell  out  on  the  best  terms  that 
could  be  made.  On  my  return  to  the  store  I  was  con- 
gratulated by  several  friends  on  my  good  luck,  and  I  soon 
found  that  my  recent  movements,  so  far  from  being  a 
secret,  were  generally  known  among  the  trade. 

XL 

I  found  Timber  joke  ready  to  close  with  my  proposition. 

"  You  and  I,  Mr.  Snowdon,  have  got  on  well  together, 
but  since  you  have  become  a  Wall  street  man  a  change  is 
necessary." 

"  I,  a  Wall  street  man  ?  "  It  still  sounded  so  strange 
that  I  could  not  forbear  the  exclamation. 

"  Yes,  it  is  generally  understood  that  you  are  operating 
there,  and  that  you  have  made  some  money;  but  it  hurts 
our  credit,  and  hence,  the  quicker  we  dissolve  the  better." 

The  transact-ion  was  soon  closed.  I  took  my  partner's 
notes  (well  secured)  for  my  interest  in  our  late  firm  and 


Midnight  in  Wall  Street.  631 

the  dissolution  was  published  within  three  days.  In  fact, 
our  inventory  of  the  previous  New  Year  was  assumed  as 
the  baeis,  and  this  saved  us  a  great  deal  of  calculation. 
My  wife  was  grieved  at  the  change  in  business,  but  she 
had  been  too  much  grieved  by  the  change  in  my  conduct 
to  ex^jress  an  additional  regret.  "  You  are  no  moreyour- 
self,  Barcla}',"  said  she ;  I  wonder  if  this  is  the  case  with 
all  Wall  street  men  ?  If  so,  how  much  their  families  are 
to  be  pitied  !  " 

It  was  true,  I  was  no  more  myself ;  but  I  endeavored 
to  make  up  for  the  loss  of  domestic  felicity  by  that  outlay 
which  my  rising  fortune  permitted.  The  house  in  which 
we  had  passed  so  many  hours  of  peace  and  happiness  was 
exchanged  for  a  large  and  stately  dwelling,  and  my  wife 
was  the  head  of  an  establishment  such  as  many  of  her 
sex  would  have  envied. 

Our  operations  continued  bold  and  increased  in  extent, 
and  Garsden's  possession  of  the  secret  ensured  success. 
This  change  excited  general  remark,  and  my  good  fortune 
was  the  wide-spread  theme,  so  that  when  my  gay  equip- 
age dashed  through  the  Central  Park  it  attracted  special 
attention.  Often  I  heard  the  expression  as  I  passed  the 
streets,  "  How  young,  and  how  fortunate !  " 

But  as  the  splendor  of  wealth  was  displayed,  family 
comfort  diminished,  I  dwelt  in  a  palace,  but  1  liad  no 
home.  My  wife,  too,  seemed  homeless.  We  were  not 
bred  to  this  lofty  style  and  we  could  not  adapt  ourselves 
to  its  new  elegance.  It  seemed,  however,  that  we  were 
under  an  influence  which  compelled  us  to  yield  to  all  the 
demands  of  fashion.  We  had  dropped  our  former  friends 
and  liad  welcomed  the  butterfly  society  of  liigh  life, 
whose  heartless  sycophancy,  flattery  and  falsehood,  were 
too  apparent  not  to  be  disgusting. 

We  often  mutually  expressed  our  desires  to  resist  this 


632  OuK  Book. 

influence,  but  it  was  a  part  of  the  system  into  which  we 
had  been  inducted,  and  there  is  no  tyrant  like  fashion.  I 
occasionally  met  my  old  partner,  Mr.  Timberjoke,  whose 
plodding  habits  seemed  characteristic  of  a  lower  intellect 
than  mine,  and  I  wondered  how  I  could  have  passed  so 
long  a  time  in  the  dull  walks  of  merchandise. 

Garsden,  too,  was  a  wonder.  lie  liad  been  known  as 
one  of  the  commonest  hacks  in  the  street,  but  he  now  was 
a  leader  in  the  market  and  lived  in  a  style  of  great  cost 
and  elegance.  I  hope  that  he  was  happier  than  I  ;  indeed 
it  would  be  difficult  for  him  to  have  been  more  miserable. 
My  wife,  too,  pined  under  the  miseries  of  style  until  I  was 
compelled  to  think  of  a  voyage  to  Europe,  whose  chief  ob- 
ject should  be  a  restoration  of  her  health.  Garsden  heard 
of  this,  and  the  plan  was  made  the  basis  of  a  fresh  scheme 
of  wealth. 

XII. 

"  It  is  a  good  idea,"  said  he,  "  and  you  should  at  once 
adopt  it."  I  will  go  also  when  I  have  time,  but  just  now 
I  cannot  tear  myself  away  from  business.  Perhaps  when 
you  return  I  will  be  able  to  do  so.  But  are  you  able  to 
meet  the  expense  of  your  trip  ?  " 

I  could  not  but  smile  at  this  question. 

"  Reflect  that  your  tastes  will  be  immensely  increased 
by  a  tour  through  Europe,  and  especially  by  a  visit  to 
Rome.  You  will  have  great  opportunities  of  purchasing 
original  pictures,  for  which  large  prices  are  demanded, 
and  you  will  on  your  return  be  able  to  open  a  gallery  of 
Raffaelles,  Correggios  and  Murillos  to  the  public.  Perhaps 
you  may  bring  the  Apollo  Belvidere  back  with  you,  or 
the  Transfiguration.  You  should  have  at  least  a  quarter 
of  a  million  more  before  you  think  of  starting  a  sinking 
fund  — excuse  the  term,  but  business  will  crop  out  —  to 
meet  your  proposed  trip." 


MiDNiGnT  IN  Wall  Street.  633 

I  was  about  to  interpose  an  idea  of  more  economical 
nature,  but  Garsden  would  not  hear  to  it.  He  then  opened 
another  class  of  operations  which  at  one  time  would  have 
appeared  wild  and  chimerical,  but  I  had  learned  to  believe 
all  that  dropped  from  his  lips. 

"Before  I  carry  out  this,"  said  he,  "one  thing  is  neces- 
sary. Next  Wednesday  night  is  the  anniversary  of  the 
midnight  march,  and  1  shall  attend  for  the  purpose  of 
learning  more  from  that  mysterious  band." 

Startled  by  the  thought,  I  exclaimed  :  "  No,  let  us 
stop  here,  Mr.  Garsden,  rather  than  attempt  any  farther 
dealings  with  the  powers  of  darkness." 

"  Young  man,"  replied  my  friend  in  a  manner  that 
combined  pleasantry  with  irritation,  "You  are  hardly 
aware  of  what  you  say,  or,  in  other  words,  you  do  not 
understand  the  condition  in  which  we  are  placed.  Know, 
then,  that  I  am  bound  by  a  solemn  understanding  to  meet 
my  benefactor  —  your  benefactor  also,  I  may  say. 

"  It  will  be  nothing  more  than  honorable  to  report  our 
success,  and  when  this  great  improvement  of  our  advant- 
ages shall  be  made  known  it  will  be  no  doubt  followed  by 
a  still  greater  revelation.  There  are  more  secrets  to  be 
revealed,  sir,  and  the  bold  and  courageous  are  the  only 
ones  which  possess  them.  The  whole  of  Yanderbilt's 
success  may  be  explained  by  carrying  out  this  rule.  He 
has  been  more  favored  than  we." 

"  But,  sir,  I  have  no  idea  of  exceeding  the  Commodore." 

"  You  shall  do  it,  sir,  whether  you  desire  it  or  not. 
Commodore  Yanderbilt  has  stood  too  long  in  this  pre- 
eminence. After  your  return  from  Europe,  or  before  it, 
you  shall  outrank  him.  I  care  not  for  myself  ;  I  am  too 
old  for  any  ambition  save  that  of  money — mere  wealth — 
the  greed  of  mammon.  I  will  never  leave  Wall  street 
until  the  former  gutter  snipe  has  become  the  richest  of 
80 


634  Our  Book. 

the  rich.  I  must  be  revenged  of  my  former  poverty. 
But  yours  shall  be  the  showy  part.  You  shall  drive  a 
finer  turn-out  than  Vanderbilt  or  any  of  the  Central  Park 
magnates. 

XII. 

I  had  learned  from  Garsden  that  our  secret  was  to  last 
for  a  year,  but  I  did  not  know  until  now  that  it  might  fall 
into  the  possession  of  some  one  of  bolder  daring,  and 
hence,  though  I  had  begun  to  weary  of  the  Stock  Ex- 
change, I  now  felt  the  importance  of  securing  it  for  another 
year.  My  wife  had  desired  me  to  retire,  and  the  prospec- 
tive tour  abroad  was  connected  with  this  thought.  The 
eventful  night  arrived.  Garsden  claimed  the  vigil  as  his 
privilege,  and  since  he  obtained  success  before  I  accorded 
with  his  desire.  JS^ext  day  he  met  me  with  a  deeper  inten- 
sity of  expression.  "  I  was  there,"  said  he,  "  and  saw  it 
all.     It  was  grand,  solemn  and  even  awful." 

"  And  what  success  ?  " 

"  I  got  it  again.  It  is  ours  for  a  twelvemonth  to  come. 
Go  to  Europe  if  you  will,  or  stay.  In  either  case  you  are 
bound  to  do  well.  We  want  no  pool  now.  Two  can 
better  share  the  profit  than  a  half-dozen." 

Garsden  entered  the  Stock  Exchange  that  morning  with 
a  degree  of  increased  confidence,  which  all  his  friends 
noticed.  He  had  by  this  time  become  a  leader,  and  his 
opinion  was  often  cited  as  almost  infallible.  How  many 
times  have  I  heard  it  uttered  in  the  excited  tones  of  the 
Exchange  "  Erie  is  going  to  ninety  ;  Garsden  says  so  !  " 
"  Northwestern  is  going  to  150 ;  Garsden  says  so  I  "  On 
this  occasion  Garsden  looked  round  with  great  self-com- 
placency and  remarked,  "follow  me  boys  and  I'll  make  a 
million  for  each  of  you." 

He  began  purchasing  with  more  than  usual  boldnesw, 


Midnight  in  Wall  Street.  635 

and  others  followed,  so  that  stocks  at  once  advanced. 
Many  thought  that  there  must  be  a  corner  in  any  thing 
that  Garsden  took  hold  of,  and  hence  his  every  movement 
was  watched.  Men,  indeed,  have  been  known  to  solicit 
him  to  keep  a  stock  up  by  simply  bidding  on  it ;  he  has 
been  implored  to  save  parties  from  ruin  by  preventing  a 
fall,  and  at  one  time  an  enormous  sum  was  paid  him  to 
keep  a  specified  stock  from  a  decline. 

All  of  these  requests  he  complied  with  as  far  as  pos- 
sible, and  thus  the  former  "gutter  snipe"  and  "curb- 
stone man  "  was  transformed  into  the  king  of  the  stock 
board.  It  was  observed,  however,  that  the  immense 
pressure  thus  placed  upon  him  had  wrought  his  system 
to  an  extreme  nervous  intensity,  and  many  of  his  move- 
ments exhibited  an  eccentricity  which  some  would  have 
taken  for  the  vagaries  of  approaching  madness. 

This  was  proven  by  some  operations  of  which  I  can 
only  speak  with  brevity,  and  from  which  I  now  turn 
away  with  that  repulsion  which  is  inseparable  from  mis- 
fortune. Garsden  opened  to  me  a  series  of  stupendous 
schemes,  which,  as  he  said  were  not  only  to  ensure  a  for- 
tune greater  than  that  of  Yanderbilt,  but  to  extend  our 
fame  throughout  the  financial  world.  It  included  the 
control  of  the  trans-continental  line,  and  then  the  build- 
ing of  a  road  to  compete  with  one  of  the  heaviest  trunk 
lines  in  the  country. 

These  stocks  would,  in  his  hands,  become  immensely 
valuable;  he  would  hold  them,  retaining  the  presidency 
for  himself  and  giving  me  the  next  office.  When  this 
should  be  done  he  purposed  retiring  from  Wall  street 
and  leaving  its  mastery  to  the  ambition  of  others.  It 
was  in  vain  that  I  dissuaded  him  from  this  operation. 
He  had  the  secret  and  this  was  sufficient.  There  was  a 
destiny  in  it,  which  he  was  sure  to  win. 


636  OuB  Book. 

All  I  had  to  do  was  to  watch  the  result.  Strange  to 
say,  I  was  at  once  fascinated  with  the  colossal  scheme 
and  we  worked  together  for  several  weeks  in  meetings 
held  at  night.  My  voyage  was  delayed  and  my  poor 
wife  protested  in  vain  against  my  increased  application 
to  business.  My  health  indeed  was  severely  tried,  and  so 
was  that  of  Garsden,  but  then  the  effort  was  but  of  a 
temporary  character,  and  when  it  should  be  over  we 
would  have  plenty  of  time  for  repose. 

The  scheme  required  a  vast  extent  of  outside  influence. 
Two  first -class  lawyers  were  retained,  whose  frequent 
opinions  were  necessary  to  keep  us  within  legal  bounds. 
A  halt-dozen  leading  brokers  were  also  employed  to  assist 
in  floating  the  new  stock,  while  an  extraordinary  range 
of  advertising  was  a  part  of  the  system,  and  two  leading 
dailies  were  subsidized  to  write  the  thing  up  in  their 
money  articles. 

I  will  not  go  into  details  of  this  affair.  It  promised 
well  for  a  time,  but  there  were  many  who  uttered  doubts, 
and  some  of  Garsden's  friends  shrugged  their  shoulders 
when  it  was  discussed.  At  this  time,  also,  dark  clouds 
came  suddenly  and  unexpectedly  before  us.  Money  be- 
came tight,  and  in  a  week  a  panic  was  threatened.  This 
was  indicated  by  a  number  of  failures  among  business  men 
who  had  gone  into  stock  speculation. 

XIII. 

Among  these  was  Barton,  who  a  short  time  ago  had 
boasted  of  the  lucky  hit  he  had  made  with  his  wife's 
money.  He  had  been  lured  into  some  deep  operations 
and  had  lost  everything.  Gumberly's  paper  also  went  to 
protest.  A  banker  absconded  soon  afterward  with 
$50,000  of  our  funds,  and  we  soon  became  short  of  money. 
What  was  to  be  done  ?     Yery  naturally  we  acted  like 


Midnight  in  Wall  Street.  637 

mariners  in  a  storm  and  threw  overboard  what  was  of 
least  value.  Garsden  commenced  selling  Union  Pacific 
bonds,  and  though  the  loss  was  heavy  yet  we  conld  easily 
bear  it. 

Such  movements,  however,  must  be  kept  secret  and 
this,  as  all  know,  is  exceedingly  difficult.  It  became 
whispered  round  that  "  Garsden  was  short  and  was  sacri- 
ficing bonds  at  a  tremendous  loss."  This  report  had  a 
still  more  depressing  effect.     Then  came  the  failure  of 

the  great  banking  house  of &  Co.,  which  had  been 

reckoned  worth  millions,  and  which  owed  us  six  hundred 
thousand  dollars.  "We  smiled,  at  least  Garsden  did,  when 
the  news  came,  and  he  said  to  economize  he  would  stop 
his  cigar  bill  (he  never  smoked). 

I  could  not  smile,  for  a  consciousness  of  some  immense 
and  fatal  blunder  depressed  me.  I  felt  satisfied  that  the 
secret  had  not  been  conveyed  on  that  anniversary  night 
—  that  some  misunderstanding  had  occurred  by  means  of 
which  my  partner  was  stripped  of  his  power  and  was 
working  confusedly  in  the  dark.  I  craved  an  opportunity 
for  explanation,  but  the  immense  pressure  of  our  com- 
plications prevented  my  obtaining  it. 

At  last,  in  a  moment  of  desperation,  I  followed  Gars- 
den into  the  private  office  and  closing  the  door  drew  a 
chair  toward  him  and  we  sat  face  to  face.  A  strange  ner- 
vous twitciiing  was  apparent  in  his  features,  and  a  glare  in 
his  eye  bade  me  fear  that  I  was  dealing  with  a  madman. 

"  Garsden,  "  said  I  in  a  manner  as  calm  as  pos- 
sible ;  "  it  is  time  that  we  had  an  explanation  —  a  mut- 
ual understanding  —  of  our  affairs.  I  hear  of  myste- 
rious movements  on  your  part,  and  I  desire  to  know  how 
far  I  am  complicated  in  them." 

"  Young  man,'^  he  replied,  "  I  am  glad  you  have  opened 
this  question  for  I  had  long  wanted  such  an  interview. 


638  OiJR  Book. 

Understand  then,  for  now  we  must  face  tlie  worst  —  that 
we  are  bankrupt ! " 

"  Is  it  possible  ? " 

"  Yes,  very  possible  ! " 

"My  GodV' 

*' Don't  begin  calling  on  God  when  you  have  so  long 
had  dealings  with  the  devil !" 

"  What  do  you  mean,  sir  ? " 

"  I  mean  what  I  say  —  do  you  not  know  that  all  this 
stock  board  are  followers  of  Satan  and  are  in  his  service  ? 
You  entered  it  with  your  eyes  open  and  need  not  beg  off 
at  consequences." 

"  But  did  you  not  renew  the  secret  ? " 

"  Yonng  man,  that  night  was  the  secret  of  ruin  instead 
of  success.  I  knew  it  not  then,  but  I  have  learned  it 
since.  What  was  told  me  there  was  not  in  truth  but  in 
deception.  Truth,  first  and  then  a  lie  —  ha  !  ha  !  Diff- 
erent from  mankind.     They  lie  always.  " 

"Garsden,"  I  shouted,  "are  you  deranged?" 

"Enough  to  murder  and  escape  hanging,"  he  replied 
with  another  maniac  laugh  and  at  the  same  time  drawing 
a  revolver. 

''Young  man,"  said  he  "  I  can  only  retrieve  my  for- 
tune in  one  way,  and  that  is  to  send  some  one  to  "join  tlie 
midnight  march.  You  are  a  Wall  street  man  and  hence 
vdll  not  object,  I  presume,  to  take  a  place  with  the 
ancient  worthies  of  the  stock  board." 

He  spoke  this  in  a  manner  peculiarly  taunting  and 
yet  hesitated  to  fire,  while  I  gazed  sternly  into  his  coun- 
tenance, knowing  that  this  was  my  only  chance  of  check- 
ing his  frenzy. 

"  Fire,  then,"  said  I,  "  if  you  will.  You  have  robbed 
me  of  my  business  and  my  happiness,  and  now  you  may 
take  my  life,  since  it  is  no  more  of  worth  ! " 


Midnight  in  "Wall  Street.  639 

"  Yes,  it  is  of  worth  !  "  shrieked  a  voice,  and  a  form 
burst  into  the  oifice,  darted  between  us  and  fell  at  my 
feet.  It  was  Ruth,  my  devoted  wife,  who  had  been 
alarmed  at  my  conduct  and  had  come  down  to  relieve 
my  anxiety.  The  lunatic  fired  as  she  entered,  and  the 
ball  took  effect  in  her  arm.  As  she  fell  he  turned  the 
weapon  upon  himself  with  better  aim,  and  the  next  bul- 
let entered  his  brain. 

•5t  *  *  *  *  * 

"  Come,  Barclay,  tea  is  ready  —  though  I  hope  I  have 
not  spoiled  your  nap." 

It  was  the  voice  of  Ruth  which  brought  me  to  my 
senses,  and  I  found  myself  sitting  in  the  rocker  with  the 
evening  paper,  which  I  had  been  reading,  fallen  on  the 
floor  by  my  side. 

"  Where's  Garsden,"  I  exclaimed,  "  and  where  are  all 
our  stocks  ? " 

"  Stocks  again,  my  dear  ?  That  was  the  last  word  you 
spoke  before  you  went  to  sleep.  Have  you  not  been 
dreaming  ? " 

"  And  the  midnight  march,  and  the  secret  and  all 
that?" 

"Come,  you  have  need  of  something  to  quiet  your 
nerves." 

"  Thank  God  then  it  is  !  It  is  a  dream  ! " 

And  it  checked  at  once  all  my  aspirations  after  Wall 
street.  Let  me  remain  the  plodding  West  street  man 
rather  than  'tempt  the  dangers  of  the  stock  market. 


RELIGIOUS. 

Eeader,  I  have  now  a  few  thonglits  of  a  much  more 
important  character,  having  kept  the  best  wine  mitil  the 
last.  Here,  for  instance,  is  an  attempt  to  explain  our 
Saviour's  words  to  his  mother  at  Cana.  "  Woman,  what 
have  I  to  do  with  thee  ?     Mine  hour  is  not  yet  come." 

Many  interpretations  have  been  given  of  this  utter- 
ance, and  Matthew  Henry  says,  in  his  Commentary:  "  He 
reprimanded  her,"  and  adds,  "as  many  as  Christ  loves  he 
rebukes  and  chastens."  Henry  also  says  that  "it  was  in- 
tended to  be  a  check  to  His  mother  for  interposing  in  a 
matter  which  was  the  act  of  His  divine  power,"  and  he 
adds  that,  "  she  accepted  the  rebuke  submissively." 

Dodridge  implicitly  follows  Henry,  and  gives  the  fol- 
lowing comment  in  his  Expositor: 

It  seems  to  have  been  intended  as  a  rebuke  to  Mary  and  it  was 
surely  expedient  tliat  she  should  know  that  Jesus  was  not  upon 
such  an  occasion  to  be  directed  by  Jier. 

This  has  been  the  general  view  held  by  the  crowd  of 

commentators  who  so  commonly  follow  in  the  same  track 

—  but  I  am  led  to  believe  that  the  passage  has  another 

and  a  far  better  meaning. 

A  Suggestion. 

I  would  suggest  that  our  Saviour's  words  on  this  oc- 
casion were  a  farewell  to  His  mother,  accompanied  by  the 
announcement  that  their  relation  as  j)arent  and  son  was 
severed,  but  would  be  renewed  when  Ilia  hour  should 
come.  This  leads  to  the  inquiry  what  the  latter  means. 
Matthew  Henry,  in  order  to  sustain  his  theory,  says: 

For  everytliing  Cluist  had  His  hour,  the  fixed  and  the  fittest 
time,  which  was  punctually  obscivod.     First,  My  hour  for  work- 


Heligious.  64 1 

Ing  miracles  is  not  yet  come.  Yet  IIo  wrought  this  before  the 
hour  because  it  would  confirm  the  faith  of  His  infant  disciples. 
Sec*)udly,  Mine  hour  for  working  miracles  openly  is  not  yet 
come. 

Reader,  I  object  in  the  most  decided  manner  to  this  ex- 
planation, for  our  Saviour  always  spoke  of  II  is  "hour  "as 
the  time  of  His  death,  as  is  said  in  John  7  :  30,  "  His  hour 
was  not  yet  come;"  also  John  13 :  1,  "  Jesus  knew  that 
His  hour  was  come."  In  his  Sacerdotal  prayer  (as  it  is 
called)  our  Saviour  says,  "  Father  the  hour  is  come, 
glorify  Thy  Son,  that  Thy  Son  also  may  glorify  Thee." 
John  17:1. 

Taking  this  view  of  the  subject,  I  next  call  attention 
to  the  fact  there  is  no  mention  of  our  Saviour's  holding 
any  conversation  with  His  mother  or  recognizing  her  in 
any  manner  after  the  scene  at  Cana.  True,  it  is  said  in 
the  latter  part  of  the  same  chapter,  that  He  left  Cana  in 
company  with  her  and  with  His  brethren  and  His  disciples 
—  but  it  is  to  be  noticed  they  do  not  go  to  Nazareth  to- 
gether. Home  life  is  ended.  Later  on,  however.  He  is 
mentioned  as  revisiting  Nazareth,  but  nothing  is  said  of 
His  meeting  His  mother. 

In  the  same  connection  we  have  that  impressive  reply 
when  He  was  told. 

Behold,  Thy  mother  and  Thy  brethren  standing  without  desiring 
to  speak  with  Thee.  But  He  answered  and  said  unto  him  that  told 
him  who  is  My  mother  ?  and  who  are  My  brethren? 

E,E-UNION    AT   THE    CrOSS. 

In  the  above  reply  and  in  the  words  that  follow  we 
have  a  clear  severance  from  all  ties  of  kin.  This  is 
strictly  maintained  until  the  crucifixion,  where  we  find 
the  following  statement  which  adds  a  deeper  pathos  to 
the  awful  scene : 

Now  there  stood  by  the  cross  of  .Jesus  His  mother  and  His 
mother's  sister,  Mary,  the  wife  of  Cleophas,  and  Mary  Magdalene. 
When  Jesus  therefore  saw  Ilis  motl"^'"  and  tlie  disciple  standing 


642  OuK  Book. 

by,  whom  He  loved,  He  said  unto  His  mother:  "Woman  behold  thy 
son;  then  said  He  to  the  disciple.  Behold  thy  mother.  John 
19;  25. 

Here  we  find  our  Saviour  speaking  to  His  mother  for 
the  first  time  on  record  since  the  miracle  at  Cana;  there 
his  utterance  is  "  Woman  what  have  I  to  do  with  thee? 
Mine  hour  is  not  yet  come !  "  —  here  it  is  "  woman  beliold 
thy  son  "  —  this  being  a  full  recognition  of  His  own  fihal 
duty  which  was  committed  to  the  beloved  disciple.  These 
two  scenes  therefore  are  the  farewell  and  the  re- union  of 
the  Saviour  and  His  mother  —  the  one  at  the  beginning 
and  the  other  at  the  close  of  His  fife  of  combined  power, 
humihation,  sufiering  and  triumph, 

David  and  TJzza. 

The  death  of  Uzza  is  one  of  the  most  familiar  episodes 
in  Old  Testament  history,  and  the  lesson  which  it  is  com- 
monly supposed  to  afford  will  readily  occur  to  the  reader. 
How  often  indeed  has  the  example  of  Uzza's  impiety  in 
upholding  the  ark  and  the  fate  that  followed  been  im- 
pressed upon  the  Bible  student.  I  have  however,  of  late 
been  led  to  a  very  different  conclusion,  and  it  now  seems 
to  me  that  the  death  of  Uzza  was  a  blow  inflicted  on 
David  who,  like  other  military  leaders,  is  made  to  suffer 
through  the  loss  of  his  men.  I  am  indeed  inclined  to 
believe  that  a  better  explanation  of  this  whole  affair  can 
be  given  in  the  following  manner. 

It  is  evident  that  David  like  other  military  men,  was 
fond  of  martial  display — a  proof  of  which  is  found  in 
the  grand  parade  described  in  I  Chronicles,  chapter 
12.  This  occurred  at  the  time  when  he  obtained 
the  complete  mastery  of  the  kingdom,  on  which  occasion 
each  tribe  was  represented  by  an  imposing  array  of  its 
troops.  The  scene  is  given  in  the  same  chapter  begin- 
ning at  the  verse  23. 


Religious.  043 

And  these  are  the  numbers  of  the  bands  that  were  ready  armed 
to  the  war  and  came  to  David  to  Hebron,  to  turn  tlie  kingdom  of 
Saul  to  him  according  to  the  word  of  the  Lord. 

The  children  of  Judah  that  bare  shield  and  spear  were  six 
thousand  eight  hundred,  ready  armed  to  the  war. 

Of  the  children  of  Simeon,  mighty  men  of  valor  for  the  war, 
seven  thousand  one  hundred. 

Of  the  children  of  Levi,  four  thousand  and  six  hundred. 

And  Jehoiadawas  the  leader  of  the  Aaronites  and  with  him  were 
three  thousand  and  seven  hundred. 

And  Zadok,  a  young  man  mighty  of  valor  and  of  his  father's 
house,  twenty  and  two  captains. 

And  of  the  children  of  Benjamin,  the  kindred  of  Saul,  three 
thousand. 

And  of  the  children  of  Ephraim  twenty  thousand  and  eight  hun- 
dred, mighty  men  of  valor,  famous  throughout  the  house  of  their 
fathers. 

And  of  the  half  tribe  of  Manasseh  eighteen  thousand,  which  were 
exjiressed  by  name  to  come  and  make  David  king. 

And  of  the  children  of  Issachar,  which  were  men  that  had  un- 
derstanding of  the  times,  to  know  what  Israel  ouglit  to  do;  the 
heads  of  them  were  two  hundred,  and  all  their  brethren  were  at 
tlieir  commandment. 

Of  Zebulun,  such  as  went  forth  to  battle,  expert  in  war  with 
all  instruments  of  war,  fifty  thousand  which  could  keep  rank :  that 
were  not  of  double  heart. 

And  of  Naphtali,  a  thousand  captains,  and  with  them  with 
shield  and  spear  thirty  and  seven  thousand. 

And  the  Dauites,  expert  in  war,  twenty  and  eight  thousand  and 
six  hundred. 

And  of  Asher  such  as  went  forth  to  battle,  expert  in  war,  forty 
thousand. 

And  of  the  other  side  of  Jordan,  of  the  Reubenites  and  the 
Gradites  and  the  half  tribe  of  Manasseh,  with  all  manner  of  instru- 
ments of  war  for  tlie  battle,  one  hundred  and  twenty  thousand. 

All  these  men  of  war  that  could  keep  rank,  came  with  a  per- 
fect heart  to  Hebron  to  make  David  king. 

The  reader  will  naturally  observe  the  military  character 

of  this  vast  movement  since  it  is  so  often  said  that  they 

were  "armed  and  could  keep  rank."     The   aggregate 

number  in  the  parade  is  300,822,  and  it  is  also  plainly 

stated  that  there  were  others  whose  numbers  were  omitted. 

David  Glorifies  Himself. 

It  seems  to  me  that  David  was  so  delighted  with  this 
brilliant  display  that  he  craved  a  repetition  and  took  oc- 


044  Our  Book. 

casion  of  tlie  transportation  of  the  ark  for  this  purpose. 
In  common  parlance  he  "tooled  in"  the  most  sacred 
object  for  the  glory  of  himself.  The  inception  —  the 
council  with  which  he  began  —  shows  that  it  was  to  be  a 
military  parade,  as  is  said  in  I  Chronicles,  chapter  13. 

And  David  consulted  with  the  captains  of  thousands  and  hun- 
dreds, and  with  every  leader. 

And  David  said  unto  all  the  congregation  of  Israel,  if  it  seem 
good  to  you,  and  that  it  be  of  the  Lord  our  God,  let  us  send 
abroad  unto  our  brethren  every  where,  that  are  left  in  all  the 
land  of  Israel,  and  with  them  also  to  the  priests  and  Levites 
which  are  in  their  cities  and  suburbs,  that  they  may  gather  them- 
selves to  us. 

And  let  us  bring  again  the  ark  of  our  God  to  us,  for  we  in- 
quired not  at  it  in  the  days  of  Saul. 

And  all  the  congregation  said  they  would  do  so:  for  the  thing 
was  right  in  the  eyes  of  all  the  people. 

So  David  gatliered  all  Israel  together  from  Shihor  of  Egypt,  even 
unto  the  entering  of  Hemath,  to  bring  the  ark  of  God  from 
Kirjath-jearim. 

It  is  evident  that  the  dignity  of  the  ark  was  subor- 
dinate to  David's  desire  for  a  grand  parade,  and  perhaps 
Uzza,  tliough  a  Levite,  imitated  the  ambitious  disposition 
of  his  master,  and  was  inflated  by  his  distinction.  The 
whole  occasion  seems  imbued  with  pride,  of  which  no 
doubt  Uzza  had  a  full  share,  and  hence  irreverently  handled 
the  symbol  of  God's  presence.  The  sin  was  in  that 
frame  of  mind  which  led  to  tlie  act,  and  which  was  pun- 
ished ])j  death  —  but  as  I  have  said  the  severest  blow 
was  against  David,  who  was  deeply  distressed.  The 
grand  parade  was  a  failure,  and  ended  in  a  funeral, 
while  the  vast  array  went  home  disappointed,  and  the  in- 
habitants of  Jerusalem,  instead  of  receiving  the  ark  with 
all  the  concomitants  of  over- vaulting  pride,  were  humbled 
to  learn  that  the  sacred  symbol  had  been  deposited  in 
the  dwelling  of  a  private  citizen. 

Death,  and  delay  and  humiliation  were  therefore  the 
result    of  this  attempt  to  use  the  ark   to  the  glory  of 


Religious.  645 

David,  and  it  "is  to  he  especially  noticed  that  David  does 
not  censure  Uzza.  He  evidently  saw  that  the  fault  was 
his  own. 

His  Confession. 
That  this  view  is  correct  seems  the  more  evident  from 
the  confession  of  David  in  chapter  15  of  tlie  same 
book.  Here  his  second  effort  is  fully  described,  and  one 
cannot  but  notice  the  change  in  the  spirit  of  the  oc- 
casion. He  assembles  the  priests  and  the  Levites,  but 
entirely  omits  the  military,  and  the  effort  became  one  of 
solely  religious  character.  David  also  confesses  his  error 
in  verses  12  and  13,  the  italics  being  my  own: 

And  David  called  for  Zadok  aad  Abiathar  the  priests,  and  for 
the  Levites,  for  Uriel,  Asaiah  and  Joel  and  Eliel,  and  he  said  unto 
them,  ye  are  the  chief  of  the  fathers  of  the  Levites;  sanctify  your- 
selves, both  ye  and  your  brethren,  that  ye  may  bring  up  the  ark  of 
tlie  Lord  God  of  Israel  unto  the  place  that  I  have  prepared  for  it. 
For  because  ye  did  it  not  at  tlie  first,  the  Lord  our  Grod  made  a 
breach  upon  us  for  that  we  sought  Him  not  in  due  order. 

Here  we  see  that  David  acknowledges  that  the  breach 
was  not  on  Uzza  alone,  but  was  "  icpon  us  "  as  "  a  punish- 
ment for  lack  of  due  order."  The  latter  indeed  was  vio 
lated  when  David  set  himself  first.  His  pride  naturally 
led  to  sacrilege,  and  the  obvious  lesson  is  that  it  is  fla- 
grant sin  to  make  religion  subserve  the  pride  and  ambition 
of  man,  and  that  deeds  of  even  apparent  piety  are  of- 
fensive to  God,  if  performed  for  human  glory.  If  the 
reader  will  examine  the  chapter  referred  to  (I  Chronicles, 
15),  he  will  see  that  it  is  entirely,  with  the  exception  of 
one  verse,  devoted  to  the  transportation  of  the  ark  in 
the  most  religious  manner. 

A  Besetting  Sin. 

That  this  craving  for  his  own  glory  was  one  of  David's 
besetting  sins,  was  shown  a  few  years  afterward  when  he 
ordered  the  numberins:  of  Israel.     The  master  of  the  cen- 


646  OuE  Book. 

BUS  saw  clearly  David's  motive,  and  therefore  protested 
against  the  order — as  it  is  said  "the  king's  word  was 
abomination  to  Joab."  The  result  was  not  merely  the 
death  of  one  man,  as  in  the  case  of  Uzza,  but  in  the  loss 
of  a  vast  multitude.  Not  that  the  census  was  in  itself 
wrong,  for  one  had  been  divinely  ordered  many  years 
previously  {vide  Numbers),  but  in  this  instance  it  arose 
from  an  improper  motive,  and  the  same  statement  applies 
to  the  removal  of  the  ark.  God  thus  shows  how  severely 
he  will  punisli  human  pride,  and  no  doubt  could  history 
be  read  under  a  similar  illumination,  we  should  behold 
many  other  fearfully  impressive  illustrations  of  the  same 
truth. 

Header,  I  regret  that  I  have  not  space  for  additional 
Bible  readings,  and  I  desire  to  say  that  I  always  return 
from  my  ramblings  in  general  literature  to  the  sacred 
volume  with  increased  love  of  its  truths  and  a  higher 
sense  of  their  importance  —  so  much  so  indeed  that  I  can 
readily  feel  the  force  of  Scott's  words  to  Lockhai-t,  there 
is  but  one  book  —  the  Bible. 


APPENDIX. 


The  forged  letters  of  WASHrnGToir, 

111  commenting  on  this  bold  and  malignant  fraud,  I 
begin  with  the  following  extract  from  Irving's  Life  of 
Washington,  volume  3,  page  359  : 

Among  the  various  insidious  artifices  resorted  to,  about  this  time 
(1778)  to  injure  the  character  of  Washington,  and  destroy  public 
confidence  in  his  sincerity,  was  the  publication  of  a  series  of  letters 
jmrporting  to  be  from  him  to  some  members  of  his  family,  and  to 
his  agent,  Mr.  Lund  Washington,  which,  if  genuine,  would  prove 
him  to  be  hollow-liearted  and  faithless  to  the  cause  he  was  pre- 
tending to  upliold. 

They  had  appeared  in  England  in  a  pamplilet  form,  as  if  printed 
from  originals  and  drafts  found  in  possession  of  a  black  servant 
of  Washington,  who  liad  been  left  behind  ill,  at  Fort  Lee,  when 
it  was  evacuated.  They  liad  recently  been  reprinted  at  New 
York  in  Rivington's  Royal  Gazette^  the  first  letter  making  its 
appearance  on  tlie  14th  of  February,  1778.  It  had  also  been 
printed  at  New  York  in  a  handbill  and  extracts  published  in  a 
Philadelphia  paper. 

Washington  took  no  public  notice  of  this  publication  at  the 
time,  but  in  private  correspondence  with  his  friends,  he  observes: 
"These  letters  are  written  with  a  great  deal  of  art.  The  inter- 
mixture of  so  many  family  circumstances  (which  by  the  by,  want 
foundation  iu  truth),  gives  an  air  of  plausibility  which  renders  the 
villainy  greater;  as  the  whole  is  a  contrivance  to  answer  the  most 
diabolical  ]>urpose. 

"  Who  the  author  of  them  is,  I  know  not.  The  design  of  his 
labors  is  as  clear  as  the  sun  in  its  meridian  brightness. 

"They  were  written  to  show  that  I  was  an  enemy  to  indepen- 
dence, and.  witli  a  view  to  create  distrust  and  jealousy.  It  is  no 
easy  matter  to  decide  whether  the  villainy  or  the  artifice  of  these 
letters  is  greatest." 

RrDicuLous  Explanation. 

The  author  of  these  letters  says  in  liis  preface  that  they 
were  found  in  a  small  portmanteau  left  by  "Washington 


648  OuB  Book. 

at  Fort  Lee  when  he  began  his  retreat  through  New  Jersey, 
and  are  evidently  the  first  draughts  of  correspondence 
with  his  relations  at  home.  He  adds,  "  I  have  shown 
them  to  several  of  my  friends,  who  agree  with  me 
that  he  is  a  very  different  character  from  what  they  had 
supposed  himr  He  also  saj's,  "  They  contain  also  as  you 
will  find  a  deal  of  information  not  to  be  had  anywhere 
else." 

This  explanation  is  one  often  used  by  authors  of  fiction 
and  bears  at  once  the  stamp  of  fraud.  The  first  is  dated 
June  12,  1776,  and  in  making  extracts  1  have  italicised 
some  of  the  more  striking  passages. 

Dear  Lund.  —  Though  I  wrote  to  you  but  a  very  few  clays  ago, 
and  have  nothing  new  of  much  moment  to  communicate,  I  cannot 
deny  myself  the  comfort  of  unburthening  my  mind  to  you,  when- 
ever I  have  a  little  leisure,  amid  the  thousand  anxieties  and  dis- 
quietudes tliat  almost  distract  me.  I  know  the  goodness  of  your 
heart,  and  that  you  attend  to  me  with  indulgence  and  sympathy, 
thougli  it  be  not  in  your  power  any  otherwise  to  afford  me  relief. 

There  cannot  in  the  nature  of  things,  be  a  situation,  so  truly 
irksome  to  an  ingenious  mind,  as  the  being  perpetually  obliged 
to  act  a  part  foreign  to  our  true  feelings;  yet  this  alas!  as  you 
know  is  and  must  he  my  lot.  I  wear  a  countenance  dressed  in  the 
calm  serenity  of  perfect  confidence,  whilst  my  heart  is  corroded  with 
infinite  ap2)rehension,  and  I  have  no  bosom  friend  near  me  to  whom 
I  dare  lay  it  open. 

Q'ell  me,  Lund,  for  you  have  long  been  privy  to  my  most 
secret  thoughts  —  trusting  to  thy  native  candor,  I  have  never  hesi- 
tated to  lay  my  heart  bare  and  open  to  thy  inspection;  tell  me 
then  am  I,  do  you  think,  moi-e  subject  to  fears  than  otiier  men? 
For  1  will  not  conceal  it  from  yoit,  that  at  this  moment  I  feel  mysetf 
a  'Very  coward.  Do  not  mistake  me ;  I  thank  my  God  I  have  never 
yet  known  what  it  was  to  fear  any  personal  danger  that  might  be- 
fall me.  I  am  not  afraid  to  die,  why  should  I  ?  I  am  afraid  only 
to  die  with  infamy  and  disgrace.  And,  if  I  am  afraid  to  die,  need 
I  tell  you  that  /  am  ten  thousand  times  more  afraid  to  live,  like  Lu- 
cifer, a  fallen  angel. 

No,  Lund,  that  were  too  much ;  betide  what  will,  I  cannot  and 
will  not  survive  either  my  misfortunes  or  my  disgraces.  Heaven 
knows  how  truly  I  love  my  country,  and  that  I  embarked  in  this 
arduous  enterprise  on  the  purest  motives.  But  we  have  overshot  our 
marh ;  we  have  grasped  at  things  heyond  our  reach;  it  is  impossible 
we  should  succeed  ;  and  I  cannot  loith  truth  say  that  I  am  sorry  for 
it ;  because  I  am  far  from  being  sure  that  we  deserve  to  succeed. 


FoKGED  Washington  Letters.  649 

Our  want  of  skill,  our  want  of  ammunition,  in  short,  our  want  of 
every  thi?ig  which  an  army  ought  to  have,  are  all  no  doubt  exceed- 
ingly against  us ;  but  they  are  nothing  to  our  loant  of  virtue. 

Unused  to  the  many  arts  and  devices  by  which  designing  men 
carry  their  points,  I  unwillingly  listened  to  my  own  apprehen- 
sions, when  early  in  the  first  Congress,  I  thought  I  saw  a  tendency 
to  measures  which  I  never  could  apjirove  of. 

At  length,  however,  when  a  continental  army  came  to  be  voted 
for,  my  fears  returned  with  redoubled  force,  for  then,  for  the  first 
time,  I  clearly  saw  our  aims  reached  farther  than  we  cared  to 
avow.  It  was  carried  with  a  unanimity  that  really  astonished  vie ; 
lecause  1  hneio  many  who  voted  for  it  were  as  adverse  to  the  independ- 
ence of  America  as  I  was.  And  they  even  ridiculed  me  for  my  ap- 
jjrehensions  on  that  account.  *  *  *  ||/g  g^i  ^^^^  loith  had  omens; 
I  was  mistrusted  of  them  (tlie  army)  in  every  thing ;  and  they  icere 
taught  to  looh  upon  me  with  jealousy.  This  soon  manifested  itself  in. 
forming  them  to  any  thing  like  decent  discijjline. 

But  I  have  long  ago  pestered  you  more  than  enough  with  com- 
plaints on  this  head.     I  knew  not,  however,  certainly,  that  1  had 
ieen  appointed  to  this  high  station,  only  to  he  disgraced  and  ruined, 
till  about  the  middle  and  latter  end  of  last  February. 
********* 

After  all  this  you  will  again,  I  doubt  not,  as  you  often  have,  ask 
me  why  I  continue  in  a  situation  so  disagreeable  to  me.  I  wish 
you  had  foreborne  this  question,  the  truth  being  that  I  neither  am 
able  nor  very  willing  to  answer  it.  My  resolution  to  hold  it  out 
as  long  as  I  can  is  dictated  by  my  feelings,  lohich  I  neither  can  de- 
scrihe  to  you  nor  wholly  justify  on  paper;  but  which,  however,  I 
find  it  impossible  for  me  to  disregard. 

The  eyes  of  all  America,  perhaps  of  Europe,  of  the  world,  are 
fixed  on  me.  It  has  been  our  policy  (and  at  the  time  I  thought  it 
well  founded)  to  hold  our  false  lights  to  the  world.  There  are  not  a 
hundred  men  in  America  that  know  our  situation ;  three-fourths 
of  the  Congress  itself  are  ignorant  of  it ;  yourself  excepted,  there 
lives  not  a  man  at  all  acquainted  with  my  peculiar  circumstances. 

The  world  looks  upon  us  as  in  possession  of  an  army  all  ani- 
mated with  the  pure  flame  of  liberty,  and  determined  to  die  rather 
than  not  be  free.  *  *  *  gut  you  know  hoic  remote,  in  my 
judgment,  all  this  is  from  the  truth;  though  I  am  not  sure  that 
there  is  another  man  in  the  army,  besides  myself,  that  thinks  so. 
I  should  guess,  however,  that  there  are  many.  But  tied  up  as  my 
own  mouth  is,  it  is  little  to  be  wondered  at  that  theirs  are  so  too, 
at  least  to  me. 

Thus  circumstanced,  can  you  point  out  a  way  in  which  it  is  pos- 
sible for  me  to  resign,  just  now  as  it  were,  on  the  eve  of  action, 
without  the  imputation  of  cowardice?     There  is  no  such  way. 

*  *  *  If  it  be  the  will  of  Grod,  that  America  should  be 
independent  of  Great  Britain,  and  that  this  be  the  season  for  it, 


650  OuK  Book. 

even  I  and  these  unhopeful  men  around  may  not  be  thought  un- 
worthy instruments  in  His  hands.  And  should  we  succeed,  we 
are  heroes,  and  immortalized  beyond  even  those  of  former  times. 
Whereas  disgrace  only,  and  intolerable  infamy  awaits  our  retreat. 
In  this  persuasion,  I  resolve  to  go  on,  contented  with  the  glorious 
King  William,  to  save  my  country,  or  die  in  the  last  ditch. 
I  am,  my  dear  Lund, 

Your  faithful  friend  and  servant, 

G.  W. 

The  evident  purpose  of  the  writer  was  to  show  that 
Washington  was  only  playing  the  part  of  a  patriotic  hero 
while  really  he  was  in  doubt  and  fear,  and  was  convinced 
that  the  colonies  had  asked  too  much  and  did  not  deserve 
success.  The  reader  will  notice  the  reference  to  lack  of  skill 
and  also  of  ammunition,  and  the  allusion  to  his  appoint- 
ment to  the  chief  command  only  to  be  ruined ;  also  the 
confession  that  America  was  holding  out  false  lights  to 
the  world.  The  effect  of  such  admissions  on  the  British 
public  in  sustaining  the  government  in  its  attempt  to 
crush  the  rebellion  cannot  be  over  estimated. 

CusTis  !N"ext. 

The  next  forgery  is  directed  to  John  Parke  Custis  (son 
of  Mrs.  Washington),  who  is  thus  addressed  : 

My  Very  Dear  Jack. —  You  have  exceedingly  obliged  me  by 
your  letter,  which  I  received  by  yesterday's  post,  *  *  *  Your 
ardour  is  commendable,  and  far  be  it  from  me  to  discourage  in 
you  a  spirit  I  so  much  love .     *     *     * 

You  have  set  your  heart,  you  tell  me,  on  a  military  employment. 
This  is  the  usual  bent  of  young  men;  and  as  it  was  my  own,  it  will 
be  wiih  an  ill  grace,  that  I  reprehend  it  in  you.  But,  with  the  ex- 
perience that  I  have  had  of  it,  I  should  be  wanting  in  that  love  and 
esteem  I  owe  you,  should  I  hesitate  to  tell  you  that,  as  your  father, 
there  is  not  a  profession  you  could  have  chosen  in  which  I  should  not 
more  cordially  have  concurred  with  you.  Yet,  I  love  arms.  I  am 
married  to  my  sword,  as  well  as  to  your  amiable  mother;  and 
herein  is  my  witness,  that  I  am  in  earnest  when  I  say,  death 
alone  shall  divorce  me  from  either. 

I  am  not  so  blindly  devoted,  however,  to  my  profession,  as  not 
to  see  &y  how  frail  a  tenure  I  hold  the  little  reputation  1  have  in  it. 
********  * 

Your  observations  on  this  important  contest  are  just  and  accu- 


Forged  Washington  Lettees.  651 

rate,  and  discover  a  reach  of  thought  and  a  penetration  beyond 
what  I  had  expected  of  you.  What  you  say  on  the  subject  of  in- 
dependency is  perfectly  judicious,  and  no  doubt  highly  worthy  of 
all  our  most  serious  consideration. 

Yet  I  have  a  presentiment,  that  it  will  take  place,  and  speedily. 
Open  and  unreserved  as  my  conduct  toward  you  has  ever  been,  I 
have  no  reluctance  to  confess  to  you  that  the  measure  is  diametri- 
cally opposite  to  my  judgment ;  for  I  have  not  yet  despaired  of  an 
honorable  reconciliation  ;  and  whilst  I  caii  entertain  hut  an  hope  of 
that,  both  interest  and  inclination  lead  me  to  prefer  it  to  every  thing 
else  upon  earth. 

As  in  bargaining,  to  obtain  a  fair  and  equal  price  you  must  fre- 
quently ask  more  than  you  wish  to  take.  I  do  not  really  wish  for 
independence.  1  hope  there  are  feto  who  do.  I  have  never  heard  the 
reasonings  of  those,  who  have  proved  that  if  we  did  not  dechire 
for  it  we  should  fail  to  obtain  the  constitutional  subordination  to 
which  we  are  entitled,  fairly  refuted.  I  would  not  have  you 
therefore  hastily  conclude  that  if,  in  this  struggle,  we  fall  short 
of  every  thing  we  have  claimed,  we  are  worsted;  perhaps  the  very 
woi'st  thing  that  could  befall  us  is  that  we  should  gain  all.  I  do  as- 
sure you  that,  in  my  opinion,  the  next  misfortune  to  that  of  being 
thrust  from  our  just  rank  in  the  order  of  freemen,  woidd  be  the 
giving  us  up.,  and  leaving  us  to  ourselves.  But  this  Great  Britain 
will  never  do  voluntarily;  for,  if  even  she  does,  whatever  may  be- 
come of  us,  from  that  moment  she  may  date  the  commencement 
of  her  own  downfall.  *  *  *  Continue  to  write  to  me  fre- 
quently, freely  and  fully,  the  hearing  of  my  dearest  friends  and 
family's  welfare  being  the  only  true  happiness  I  have  any  chance 
to  enjoy  amidst  the  perpetual  hurry  in  which  I  live. 

I  am,  my  dear  Jack, 

Your  very  affectionate  friend  and  father, 

GEO.  WASHINGTON. 

June  18,  1776. 

The  reader  will  see  in  the  above  Washington's  alleged 
Iiope  of  reconciliation,  and  his  lack  of  desire  for  inde- 
pendence ;  also  the  suggestion  that  their  success  in  this 
point  might  prove  the  greatest  misfortune,  added  to 
which  is  tlie  idea  that  for  Great  Britain  to  acknowledge 
our  independence  would  be  the  beginning  of  her  own 
downfall..  This  is  an  ingenious  and  tremendous  pro- 
phetic warning .  Next  comes  Lnnd  again,  and  the  reader 
will  notice  the  reference  to  doctoi\  now  Brigadier-Gen- 
eral, Mercer,  this  being  intended  to  ridicule  the  manner 
in  which  generals  were  made. 


652  OuK  Book. 

New  Yoek,  July  the  8,  1776. 
To  Mr.  Lund  Washington,  a  Mount  Vernon : 

Dear  Lund. —  We  are  still  going  on  with  all  imaginable  brisk- 
ness and  success  witli  our  works.  *  *  *  If^  in  every  thing  else, 
we  could  but  come  up  to  our  exertions  in  these  fortifications,  I 
should  hardly  know  how  to  doubt  the  judgment  of  those  who 
think  that  we  may  bid  defiance  to  the  world.  But  I  know  not 
how  it  is.  /  am  diffident  of  every  thing.  Whilst  almost  every 
body  else  seems  to  have  persuaded  themselves  that  we  have 
nothing  to  fear,  I,  alone,  torment  myself  with  thinking  that  every 
thing  is  against  us.  Even  from  these  very  words  which  have  in- 
spired us  with  such  confidence,  /  anticipate  only  misfortune  and 
disgrace. 

Doctor,  now  Brigadier-General,  Mercer  is  here,  and  is  a  great 
comfort  to  me.  Lihe  myself,  he  scants  exferience,  but  he  is  very 
shrewd  and  sensible.  *  *  1=  Lg^  ^g^  since  war  must  be  our  lot, 
distinguish  ourselves  as  freemen  should,  in  fields  of  blood,  still 
remembering,  however,  that  we  fight  not  for  conquest,  but  for 
liberty. 

I  am,  with  the  truest  esteem,  dear  Lund, 

Your  faithful  friend  and  servant, 

G.  W. 
New  York,  Jxdy  16,  1776. 
To  Mr.  Lund  Washington  : 

Dear  Lund. —  How  cruelly  are  all  my  hopes  in  one  sad  moment 
blasted  and  destroyed !  I  am  positively  ordered  to  wait  for  the 
enemy  in  our  lines;  and  lest  I  should  be  mad  enough  not  to  obey 
their  mandates,  not  a  single  tittle  of  anything  I  had  asked  for  is 
granted.  Thus  has  a  second  opportunity  of  rendering  my  country 
an  essential  se7'vice,  in  the  way  of  my  profession,  been  unwisely,  and 
in  the  most  mortifying  manner,  denied  me.  I  profess  I  hardly  know 
how  to  bear  it.  *  *  *  Managed  as  matters  are,  we  neither  are, 
nor  ever  shall  "be,  a  military  people,  and  yet  in  the  train  in  which 
things  are  now  put,  unless  we  ai'e,  it  were  idiotism  to  hope  for  either 
freedom  or  independence. 

I  remember  well,  in  a  conversation  I  once  had  with  a  friend 
(now  most  unjustly,  as  well  as  unwisely,  driven  from  his  friends 
and  his  home),  on  the  subject  of  monarchies  and  republics.  He  ob- 
jected to  the  unavoidable  slowness  and  dilatoriness  of  the  execu- 
tive power  in  the  latter.  Aiming  to  answer  him  in  his  own  way, 
I  replied  that  popular  councils  were  slow,  they  yet  were  sure,  and 
that  in  the  multitude  of  counsellors  there  is  safety. 

His  answer  was  prophetical.  If  ever  (he  said)  we  of  these  coun- 
tries should  rashly  put  these  things  to  the  proof  it  would  be  found, 
that,  however,  true  this  adage  might  be  in  the  cabinet,  it  was  not 
so  in  the  field.  Convinced  hy  melancholy  experience,  that  this  is  the 
case,  and  that  luithout  some  different  system,  we  shall  Init  exjwse  our- 
selves to  contempt  and  7'uin,  I  resolved  this  evening  honestly  and 
openly  to  say  so  to  the  Congress. 


FoKGED  Washington  Letters.  653 

I  will  go  farther;  and  add,  that  if  they  cannot  in  fact,  as  well 
as  in  appearance,  trust  me  with  the  uncontrolled  command  of 
their  armies,  1  will  no  longer  be  their  puppet.  Why  should  I?  it 
being  now  moralli/  certain  that  by  going  on  as  we  have  hitherto  done, 
I  can  neither  bring  honor  nor  2}fq/it  to  them,  and  yet  am  sure  to  lose 
all  the  little  of  either  xchich  I  have  or  might  have  possessed. 

I  want  words  to  express  to  you  what  I  have  felt,  and  still  do  feel 
on  this  disappointment  of  all  my  hopes.  I  had  allowed  myself  to 
build  too  much  on  my  scheme,  and  I  seem  to  be  in  the  situation 
of  one  who  should  be  allowed  to  rise,  on  purpose  only  to  be  thrown 
down.  The  enemy,  in  the  midst  of  all  our  blunderings,  must  de- 
spise us;  aad  did  not  shame  or  some  better  principle  restrain  them, 
I  should  be  but  little  surprised  to  find  General  Howe  even  with 
his  present  little  handful  attacking  us,  yes,  attaching  us  in  our  en- 
trenchments. 

What  shall  I  do?  To  retreat  is  to  entail  on  myself  the  curses  of 
every  public  man  in  my  country,  and  to  go  on  is  certain  ruin  and  dis- 
grace. Were  the  world  to  know  only  my  true  history  on  this  try- 
ing occasion,  I  persuade  myself,  all  the  candid  and  considerate  in 
it  would  acquit  me  of  blame.  But  this  the  world  can  know  only 
by  my  resolving  to  tell  a  tale,  which  considering  the  rank  I  now 
hold  in  it,  must  involve  my  country  in  such  internal  broils  and 
quarrels,  as  must  be  fatal  to  the  glorious  cause  in  which  we  have 
embarked.  And  this  I  trust  I  shall  have  the  virtue  never  to  do,  be 
my  private  wrongs  and  sufferings  ever  so  great. 

I  have  finished  my  letter  to  the  Congress,  to  whom  I  have  at 
length  spoken  in  a  more  peremptory  tone  than  I  fancy  they  have 
been  used  to.  It  was  absolutely  necessary,  and  I  should  ill  de- 
serve their  confidence,  if  through  any  mistaken  complaisance  or 
diffidence,  I  hesitated  to  point  out  to  them  the  mischievous  con- 
sequences of  their  interference.     *     *     * 

'Tis  all  fearful  expectation.  Every  man  I  see  seems  to  be  em- 
ployed in  preparing  himself  for  the  momentous  recontre  which 
every  man  persuades  himself  must  shortly  come  on.  There  is  an 
ostensible  eagerness  and  impetuosity  amongst  us,  I  could  willingly 
have  excused.  I  should  have  been  hettQY  pdeased  with  that  steady 
comj)osure  whicJi  distinguishes  veterans.     *     *     * 

I  can  as  yet,  give  no  guess,  where  or  when  they  (the  British) 
will  approach  us.  I  conclude,  however,  that  they  will  hardly  stir 
till  they  are  joined  by  all  the  men  they  expect.  Desponding  as  I 
am,  I  wish  they  were  arrived,  and  that,  at  this  moment  they  were 
in  a  condition  to  attack  us.  They  may  gain  by  procrastination, 
but  we  are  sure  to  lose. 

I  am,  my  dear  Lund, 

Yours  most  aflEectionateiy, 

G.  W. 

The  reader  will  notice  Washington's  confession  that  he 
lacks  experience,  but  what  is  still  more  important  the  re- 


654  Our  Book. 

fusal  of  Congress  to  grant  him  the  smallest  request,  thus 

showing  their  lack  of  confidence  in  their  chosen  leader. 

Then  he  also  admits  the  idiotism  of  hoping  for  either 

freedom  or  independence,  and  he  determines  to  be  no 

longer  the  puppet  of  Congress.     What  a  confession  of 

blunderings  is  added  to  this  miserable  picture  which  is  so 

well  calculated  to  convince  the  British  that  the  rebellion 

could  easily  be  suppressed.     Here  is  another: 

New  York,  July  15,  1776. 
To  Mr.  Lund  Washington  : 

Dear  Lund. —  Last  Friday  the  British  fleet  was  seen  off  Staten 
Island,  they  have  since  been  employed,  uninterruptedly  by  us,  in 
debarking  their  men,  stores,  etc.,  and  as  they  must  now,  I  should 
imagine,  be  pretty  nearly  as  strong  as  they  expect  to  be  this  cam- 
paign, no  doubt  we  shall  soon  hear  of  their  motions,  I  have  rea- 
son to  believe  their  first  essay  will  not  be  on  this,  but  on  Long  Is- 
land ;  where  injudiciously,!  thinh^ice  also  are,  or  soon  shall  he  in  force. 
Yet  if  we  do  but  act  our  parts,  as  becomes  us,  be  the  issue  as  it 
may,  we  shall  at  least  give  them  no  pleasing  earnest  of  what  tliey 
have  to  expect  in  the  course  of  the  war.  But  there  is  no  relying  on 
any  flan  that  is  to  he  executed  by  raw  men. 

You  have  heard  much  of  the  powers  with  which  commissioners 
were  to  be  invested  for  the  purpose  of  settling  this  dispute. 
There  are  but  two  (the  two  Howes),  and  their  powers  are  ex- 
tremely vague  and  undefined.  It  is  a  pity,  methinks,  that  (]!on- 
gress  had  not  had  better  information  on  this  subject ;  if  they  had, 
it  is  not  to  be  presumed  they  would  not  have  precipitated  the  declara- 
tion of  independence,  so  as  to  preclude  all  possibility  of  negotia- 
tion. I  may  venture  to  whisper  in  your  ear,  that  tliis  excepted,  I 
firmly  believe  that  America  might  have  carried  every  other  point. 

Whether  in  the  present  posture  of  affairs,  it  still  be  so,  is  an- 
other question;  I  can  answer  only  for  myself,  that  I  would  not 
even  ask  so  much.  Different  men  will  judge  differently  with  re- 
spect to  this  conduct,  on  the  part  of  Great  Britain ;  I  own  I  am 
bewildered  and  puzzled  to  account  for  it.  After  such  an  aston- 
ishing experience  as  they  have  been  at  and  with  such  fair  pros- 
pects as  they  have  before  them  of  being  soon  in  a  capacity  to  prescribe 
their  own  terms,  it  certainly  is  extraordinary  to  find  them  condescend- 
ing to  be  friends  with  us,  on  conditions  as  mortifying  and  degrading 
to  them,  as  they  are  flattering  to  us.  I  can  account  for  it  but  in  one 
way.  I  really  ascribe  it  to  their  magnanimity,  that  reconciled  me 
to  the  measure  of  taking  up  arms.  I  see,  liowever,  the  world 
around  me  viewing  it  in  a  different  light;  every  concession  that  is 
made  to  us,  they  attribute  to  timidity  only,  despondency.  I  own 
appearances  make  for  this  conjecture.  *  *  *  * 

I  have  not  adopted  this  opinion,  that  we  might  have  peace  with 


Forged  Washington  Letters.  655 

Great  Britain,  on  terms  which  would  once  liave  been  thought 
most  honourable,  on  slight  grounds.  Yesterday  a  letter  was 
brought  to  me,  making  overtures  for  a  negotiation  from  Lord 
Howe.  I  had  expected  it,  and  had  my  instructions.  It  was  ad- 
dressed to  me,  as  I  had  foreseen,  as  in  my  private  character  only. 
On  the  ground  of  independency,  if  we  chose  to  maintain  it,  this 
was  not  a  mere  matter  of  punctilio;  it  was  the  critical  moment  of 
trial,  wiiether  we  would  assert  or  recede  from  our  pretenaions. 
*  *  *  I  confess  to  you,  I  felt  awkicard  upon  the  occasion.  The 
punctilio  seemed  (and  it  could  not  but  seem)  to  be  my  own,  and 
as  such  it  looked,  methought,  as  though  1  were  proud  of  my  titles. 
Put  yourself  in  my  place  and  see  me  longing,  as  you  Tcnow  I  do  most 
earnestly,  for  peace,  yet  turning  my  back  on  a  gentleman,  whom  I 
had  reason  to  consider  as  the  harbinger  of  it,  only  because  he 
asked  for  Mr.  and  not  General  Washington.  How  often  it  is  my 
lot  to  find  it  my  indispensable  duty  to  act  a  part  contrary  to  loth 
m,y  own  sentiments  and  inclinations  ! 

But  I  shall  exhaust  your  patience,  which  I  should  not  do,  fore- 
seeing, as  I  do,  that  I  shall,  hereafter,  have  occasion  to  put  it  to 
the  trial. 

I  am  with  the  truest  regard, 

Dear  Lund,  Yours,  etc., 

G.  W. 

New  York,  July  32,  1776. 
To  Mr.  LtTND  Washington: 

I  wish  I  could  say  I  thoroughly  approve  of  all  the  new  regula- 
tions in  the  new  institution  of  government  in  my  native  State.  It 
could,  however,  hardly  have  been  expected  that  a  reformation  so 
capital  and  comprehensive  should  be  perfect  at  first;  the  wonder 
is,  it  is  not  still  more  exceptionable. 

I  gave  this  in  answer  to  my  friend  Mr.  Carter's  objections  to  the 
first  procedure  of  the  new  government.  No  doubt  (Patrick) 
Henry  is,  in  many  respects,  the  unfittest  man  in  the  state  for  Gov- 
ernor of  Virginia.  He  has  no  property,  no  learning,  hut  little  good 
sense,  and  still  less  virtue  or  puMic  spirit;  but  he  is  the  idol  of  the 
people;  and  as  it  is  by  their  means  only  that  you  can  hope  to  ef- 
fect the  grand  schemes,  which  you  have  meditated :  you  must  hu- 
mor them,  and  indulge  them  with  their  rattle :  they  will  soon  tire 
of  him ;  and  the  opportunity  must  then  be  watched  gently  to  lead 
them  to  a  better  choice. 


You  woula  be  mortified  to  hear  the  criticisms  which  are  com- 
mon here  on  Henry's  inauguration  speech.  It  is  indeed  a  poor 
and  pitiful  performance;  and  yet  I  can  believe  that,  set  oflf  by  his 
smooth  and  oily  delivei-y,  it  would  appear  clever  when  he  spoke 


656  Our  Book. 

it.     Why  did  he  not  ask  Mr.  Page  to  prepare  it  for  him?     There 
is  not  a  man  in  America  more  capable. 

I  am,  etc., 

G.  W. 

In  the  above  we  have  reference  to  Washington's  refusal 
to  accept  a  communication  from  the  British  commission- 
ers, addressed  to  George  Washington,  Esq.  To  have 
done  otherwise  would  have  been  surrendering  all  national 
claims,  but  in  the  above  letter  he  is  made  to  regret  his 
determination.  His  fling  at  Patrick  Henry  would  natur- 
ally show  a  division  among  the  leaders. 

June  24,  1776. 
To  Mrs.  Washington: 

I  am  far  from  sure  that  that  restless  madman,  our  quondam  Gov- 
ernor (Henry),  from  the  mere  lust  of  doing  mischief,  will  not  soon 
betake  himself  to  the  carrying  on  of  a  predatory  war  in  our  rivers. 
And  as  Patomack  will  certainly  be  thought  most  favorable  for  his 
purposes,  as  affording  him  scope  to  keep  without  the  reach  of  an- 
noyance, I  have  little  reason  to  flatter  myself  that  it  would  not  be 
particularly  pleasing  to  him  to  vent  his  spite  at  my  house.  Let  him ; 
it  would  affect  me  only  as  it  might  affect  you,  and  for  this  reason, 
among  others,  I  wish  you  out  of  his  reach.  Yet  I  think  I  would 
not  have  you  quit  your  house,  professedly  from  an  ajiprehension 
of  a  visit  from  him.  An  appearance  of  fearfulness  and  timidity, 
even  in  a  woman  of  my  family,  might  have  a  bad  effect,  but  I 
must  be  something  more  or  less  than  a  man,  not  to  wish  you  out 
of  the  way  of  danger,  which,  to  say  the  least,  must  be  disagree- 
able to  you,  and  could  do  good  to  no  one. 

All  this  makes  for  your  going  to  Philadelphia  a  place  of  perfect 
security,  and  it  would  almost  be  worth  while  to  be  innoculated  if 
it  were  only  for  the  fair  pretense  it  furnishes  you  with  of  quitting 
Virginia,  at  a  lime  when  I  could  not  but  be  exceedingly  uneasy  at 
your  remaining  in  it. 

I  would  have  Lund  Washington  immediately  remove  all  the  un- 
married and  suspicious  of  the  slaves  to  the  quarters  in  Frederick. 
The  harvesting  must  be  got  in  by  hirelings.  Let  him  not  keep 
any  large  stock  of  grain  trod  out,  especially  at  the  mill,  or  within 
the  reach  of  water  carriage,  and  in  particular  let  as  little  as  may 
be,  be  left  at  Clifton's.  *  *  *  \\\  quj.  preparations  of  war 
aim  only  at  peace.  Neither  do  I,  at  this  moment,  see  the  least 
likelihood  of  tiiere  being  any  considerable  military  02)erations  (his 
season,  and  if  not  in  this  season,  certainly  in  no  other.  It  is  impos- 
sible to  suppose  that,  in  the  leisure  and   quiet  of  winter  quarters, 


Forged  Washington  Letters.  GSY 

men  ■will  not  have  virtue  to  listen  to  the  dictates  of  plain  common 
sense  and  sober  reason.  27ie  only  true  interest  of  both  sides  is  recon- 
ciliation. 

We  must  at  last  agree  and  be  friends,  for  we  cannot  live  with- 
out them,  and  tliey  will  not  without  us ;  and  a  bystander  might 
well  be  puzzled  to  find  out  why  as  good  terms  cannot  be  given 
and  taken  7iow  as  when  we  shall  have  well  nigh  ruined  each  other 
by  the  mutual  madness  of  cutting  one  another's  throats. 

Pity  this  (reconciliation)  cannot  be  accomplished  without  fixing 
on  me  that  sad  name.  Rebel.  I  love  my  king,  you  know  1  do  ;  a  sol- 
dier, a  good  man,  cannot  but  love  him.  How  peculiarly  hard  then 
is  our  fortune  to  be  deemed  traitors  to  so  good  a  king  f  *  *  * 
You  know  how  I  am  circumstanced;  hardly  the  promotion  of  a  sub- 
altern  is  left.  And  free  and  independent  as  I  am,  I  resolve  to  re- 
main so.  I  owe  the  Congress  no  obligations  for  any  personal 
favors  done  to  myself,  nor  will  I  run  in  debt  to  them  for  favors  to 
others.  Besides,  I  am  mortified  to  have  to  ask  them  what,  in 
sound  policy  (if  other  motives  had  been  wanting),  they  ought  to 
have  granted  to  me  unasked. 

I  cannot  describe  to  you  the  inconveniences  this  army  suffers  for 
want  of  this  consequence  being  given  to  its  commander-in-chief. 
But  as  these  might  be  increased,  were  my  peculiar  situation  in 
this  respect  generally  known,  I  forbear,  only  enjoining  you  a 
cautious  silence  on  this  head. 

Your  most  faithful  and  tender  husband, 

G.   W. 

In  sending  his  wife  sucli  caution  concerning  a  preda- 
tory war,  Washington  conveys  the  idea  of  internal  faction, 
and  tliis  would  also  encourage  the  British.  The  orders 
that  Lund  remove  the  suspicious  slaves,  even  if  he  had  to 
hire  others  to  do  the  harvesting,  is  also  strongly  sugges- 
tive of  danger  close  at  home  ;  and  then  he  again  avows 
his  desire  for  reconciliation.  He  even  adds,  "  I  love  my 
king,"  and  he  objects  to  being  called  a  traitor.  Such  a 
letter  to  his  wife  must  have  been  very  powerful  when 
read  in  London,  especially  when  placed  in  contrast  with 
the  tremendous  indictment  against  the  king  in  the  Decla- 
ration of  Independence. 

Additional  History. 

These  letters  were  published  in  London,  probably  in 
1776,  but  the  first  issue  that  can  be  found  is  in  a  pam- 


658  Our  Book. 

phlet  published  by  J.  Bew,  London,  1YY7.  On  the  14th 
February,  1778,  Rivington  began  their  publication  in  his 
Gazette^  which  continued  until  the  whole  series  appeared. 
They  were  then  copied  by  the  Royal  Pennsylvania  Ga- 
zette^ issued  in  Philadelphia  by,  a  Tory  printer  named  Rob- 
ertson, and,  of  course,  had  a  tendency  to  discredit  "Wash- 
ington's sincerity,  but  his  denial  was  generally  accepted. 
Eighteen  years  afterward  (1796),  when  Washington  (then 
president)  was  so  virulently  assailed,  Rivington  reprinted 
them,  adding  some  genuine  letters  to  fill  out  the  volume, 
and,  though  he  knew  Washington's  denial,  he  states  in 
the  preface  that  the  letters  are  genuine  —  a  bold  and  ma- 
lignant lie,  and  this  led  to  the  following  procedure,  ex- 
tracted from  Irving's  Washington : 

On  the  morning  of  the  3d  of  March,  the  last  day  of  his  official 
career,  Washington  addressed  a  letter  to  the  Secretary  of  State 
on  the  subject  of  the  spurious  letters,  heretofore  mentioned,  first 
published  by  the  British  in  1776,  and  subsequently  republished 
during  his  administration  by  some  of  his  political  enemies. 

He  had  suffered  every  attack  on  his  executive  conduct  to  pass 
unnoticed  while  he  remained  in  public  life,  but  he  conceived  it  a 
justice  due  to  his  character  solemnly  to  pronounce  those  letters  a 
base  forgery,  and  he  desired  that  the  present  letter  (of  denial) 
might  be  "deposited  in  the  office  of  the  Department  of  State," 
as  a  testimony  to  the  truth,  to  the  present  generation  and  to  pos- 
terity. • 

RrVINGTON   THE    MaN. 

No  other  republication  was  made  until  Worthington 
Chauncey  Ford,  in  1889,  issued  a  small  edition,  in  quarto, 
giving  an  extended  and  valuable  commentary,  with  some 
theories  concerning  the  authorship.  First  was  mentioned 
the  London  theory,  that  they  weie  written  by  a  yoimg  Eng. 
lish  clergyman  who  had  passed  some  time  in  New  York; 
Ford,  however,  justly  dismisses  the  charge,  and  yet  fails 
to  fasten  it  upon  any  other  person,  though  he  states  that 
Tilghman  thought  they  were  written  by  Jack  Randolph. 

I,  however,  suspect  James  Rivington,  and  I  think  the 


FoKGED  Washington  Letters.  659 

proof  is  as  conclusive  as  that  which  fastens  the  Junius 
letters  on  Sir  PhiKp  Francis. 

Riviugton's  printing  office  had  been  destroyed  by  pop- 
ular violence,  and  after  tiie  city  had .  been  captured  by 
the  British  he  went  to  London  for  another  outfit.  He 
probably  took  the  letters  with  him,  as  they  would  assist 
his  importance,  especially  as  he  had  claims  on  the  govern- 
ment for  indemnity.  They  were  really  his  capital.  He 
could  arrange  for  their  publication  in  London,  and  their 
republication  in  ]^ew  York  followed  as  a  matter  of  course. 

How    IT   COULD    BE    DoNE. 

if  this  inquiry  be  raised,  I  reply  by  referring  to  my 
acquaintance  with  journalism.  There  are  scores  of  clever 
men  in  the  profession  who  from  less  data  than  were  in 
Kivington's  possession  can  manufacture  just  such  decep 
tive  letters.  All  tliat  was  required  was  to  interview  some 
person  famihar  with  Mount  Vernon,  and  there  was  prob- 
ably more  than  one  who  would  innocently  reply  to 
queries  made  under  the  garb  of  innocent  curiosity. 

Rivington  was  in  the  city  during  Washington's  occu- 
pation, and  may  have  talked  with  the  negro  Billy  (who  is 
mentioned  in  the  preface),  and  with  many  of  the  Vir- 
ginia troops. 

It  is  very  evident  to  my  observation  that  the  letters 
were  the  work  of  a  printer,  and  a  parallel  instance  is  found 
in  Franklin's  imaginative  description  of  the  scalps  taken 
by  the  Indians,  which  has  been  republished  as  history. 
Franklin  wrote  his  harrowing  picture  to  show  the  horrors 
of  Indian  warfare,  and  why  should  not  another  printer 
practice  the  same  artifice  to  assist  his  own  side  ? 

Other  Proof. 
This  IS  found  in  Rivington's  republication  of  the  fraud. 


6G0  OuK  Book. 

He  had  not  forgotten  his  bantling,  and  when  Washington 
was  under  such  a  cruel  attack  it  no  doubt  seemed  a  good 
time  to  add  to  the  malignant  crusade.  The  first  issue  of 
the  fraud  might  have  been  extenuated  as  a  military  arti 
fice,  but  their  republication  in  book  form  showed  long- 
cherished  malice. 

Rivington  also  prefaced  these  letters  with  the  open  as- 
sertion of  their  authenticity,  after  Washington  had  de- 
nied it.  It  seems  like  Rivington's  cunning  and  mendac- 
ity all  through  the  whole  affair,  but  it  proved  as  futile 
as  it  was  malicious. 

This  last  republication  rendered  him  very  unpopular. 
His  paper  failed  and  he  died  poor,  in  1803,  having  lived 
to  see  the  unutterable  grief  which  convulsed  the  nation 
when  the  man  whom  he  hated  was  laid  to  rest.  There  is 
a  portrait  of  Rivington  in  the  New  York  Historical  So- 
ciety, which  also  contains  a  file  of  his  Gazette, 


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